


So Romantic

by beanedbyBean



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Fluff, M/M, Model Jaehwan, Mutual Pining, Photographer Wonshik, Romance, Sexual Tension, VIXX Ensemble - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-01-13 05:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanedbyBean/pseuds/beanedbyBean
Summary: The Haus of VIXX is gearing up for the new season launches and Hakyeon is geared to keep his head afloat as senior design director. The only problem: he doesn't have a photographer for the job. With the help of his insufferable financial director, Hongbin scouts Wonshik to join their team with only one rule: do not touch the models.However, their new photographer seems to have some secret history with their favorite model.





	1. You are my [Red] rose

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not work in the fashion field so the use of the job positions and terms will be butchered and not accurate.  
> Otherwise, please enjoy the fic~~~

* * *

 

☆

 

**— 1 —**

 

 **You are my [** Red **] rose**

 

☆

* * *

 

All Hakyeon could see is red.

The color is taunting him for the past few hours he’s been glued to this damn stool. His butt is sore and his legs are cramping from trying to angle his legs comfortably onto the footrest and his back is in agony for the constant hunching he’s done; he should really invest in an ergonomic chair for his weary body . . . and a proper sewing kit storage box.

He’s pricked his fingers too many times in the period of time he spent sewing in the chair, stitching the red sash onto the mannequin before him.

The sash is hanging by a thread, quite literally, and he plucks another needle that's stabbed into the poor cactus plushie propped on the table beside him. He pulls another roll of thread, midnight black, and is about to continue when he hears a—

_KNOCK-KNOCK!_

Instinctively, he answers. “Come in.”

“Oh, you’re still alive.”

Usually, he spends more brainpower to remember that his workshop is always a mess, ought to feel self-conscious about other people seeing it. However, when he looks up to find his executive financial director leaning against the doorway, he decides to not give a fuck.

“Piss off, asshole.”

Rather than being put off by the abrupt dismissal, Hongbin chuckles and Hakyeon frowns at the sound. He tries to focus his attention back to cut the thread, making sure the end doesn't split, until Hongbin drawls. “Now, now… its not civil to be so snappy at me, _hyung_.”

“Come any closer and I'll stab you with a needle.”

“Oh, so touchy. Had a bad night?”

Normally, informal talk like this would’ve gotten either of them into trouble with management but they’ve managed to get by with pretending to be polite in front of the other staff. However, in circumstances where it’s merely the two of them, it's a whole different story.

“I’m busy. Go away.”

“Mm-hmm, I can obviously see that.”

“Get out.”

“Nope.”

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Hakyeon hisses, frustrated with his failure to get the thread through the eye of the needle.

“Because it's fun to annoy you.” Hongbin smiles cheekily.

Sighing exasperatedly, Hakyeon gets up from his stool, moving to the wall of shelves that’s mercifully only a few feet away.

He stares up at his wall of materials, rolls and rolls of ribbons carefully organized according to color and plucks a golden velvet roll **;** yes, this color would do nicely with the red, he notes. He takes out the ribbon-end sticker off the roll, unfurling it slightly and walks past five other mannequins, all stitched and incompletely dressed, before returning to his most recent piece.

He’s careful to not run into his cutting table, where a large sheet of fabric has been laid out, drawn with cutting lines . . . he’ll return to that one eventually after he’s done. One thing at a time. He can feel Hongbin’s eyes follow him, gaze burning on the back of his neck.

“I won’t say it again, Hongbin.” He warns. “Unless you've got something important to tell me, get out.”

“Okay, then.”

He waits for a response.

When the silence stretches too long, he turns to Hongbin . . . only to find him interested in the dirt under his nails and it makes Hakyeon want to stab him with scissors. Does Hongbin think he has time to entertain this sort of behavior?

Sighing, he groans. “What is it?”

Hongbin ignores him again and steps into the threshold of the studio, his immaculate dress shoes clicking against the exposed concrete floor as he slowly approaches Hakyeon’s sewing station. He sidesteps another table, this one stacked with colored pencils and Hakyeon’s messy sketches whose mind is always buzzing like bees carrying honey of ideas.

“Don’t be like that, Hakyeon.” Hongbin drawls. “We’ve been colleagues for _so_ long, I’m mildly hurt by the hostility.”

“No, you are begging to be stabbed.”

“Wouldn’t you like that though?” He grins, tempting trouble with his mischiveous grin and dimples. “To poke something at me.”

“Very much, yes.”

“In your wildest dreams.”

“That would imply I’d have to dream about you, asshole.”

“You haven’t already?”

“You ass.” Hakyeon finally glares at him, trying to ignore his racing heart; the sight of it makes Hongbin laugh.

“Yes, I know my ass is glorious.”

It was utterly unfair that the bastard is _gorgeous_.

Hongbin’s tall with heavenly proportions, broad shoulders and slim waist, now looking like sin personified in a navy dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose his toned arms and black tailored pants that emphasized the lines of his long and lithe legs. He had his hair styled up today, silver locks complimenting his fair complexion with beckoning stars in his doe eyes, tempting to suck Hakyeon into their orbit.

In another lifetime, Hakyeon would’ve asked Hongbin to be his model and sees his designs fitted on the younger like a walking dream on earth.

The problem is Hongbin _knows_ he’s gorgeous _._

When he first joined the prestigious production powerhouse called _Haus of VIXX_ two years shortly after Hakyeon did, he’s been ogled and admired by almost everyone in the building, even the cleaners smiled at him. However, Hakyeon seems to be the only one who sees past his charisma and notices his _insufferable_ personality; such a waste of genetic lottery.

“Before you have another go at ripping my head off,” Hongbin lazily smirks at him. “Please don’t misunderstand, I _am_ here to check on our favorite designer.”

Hakyeon snorts. _Sure._

“Management just simply wants me to make sure you haven’t drowned in designing for our autumn collection that’s coming up in three weeks.” Hongbin adds.

In the last board meeting, the _Haus of VIXX_ wanted to release an autumn collection of their haute couture line and appointed Hakyeon as the Senior Design Director. It was a job he very much liked—even though the board had appointed Hongbin to assist him on the financial aspect such as marketing and keeping track of production costs—and he’s poured himself into work.

Hakyeon loves designing as much as he breathes, especially after he quitted his stale desk job as an accountant many years ago.

However, he doesn’t see why that could be the only reason Hongbin is here.

“Anything else, Hongbin?”

“Can’t I be concerned for the welfare of my design director?” He smiles sweetly.

“No, you are too shrewd for that.” Hakyeon admits with begrudging respect. “You know my creative design processes and this isn’t the first time I’ve directed a collection launch with you either. So, stop beating around the bush and tell me what it is you’re really here for.” He says as calmly as he could, even though he wants to claw his nails down a chalkboard.

He’s seen Hongbin in board meetings; watched the younger man deliver astute presentations with a silver tongue that has captivated their investors and buyers, especially of the affluent kind. He was in his element when he’s got everyone’s attention, delivering compelling analysis with enchanting temptation, a skill that Hakyeon is extremely envious of when it came to _selling_ the idea.

“Always so perspicacious.” Hongbin notes airily.

Hakyeon feels a bite of saltiness at that. Of course, Hongbin wouldn’t think he’s all that great outside of work. “I’m surprised you know the meaning of such word.”

Suddenly, Hongbin _pouts_ and it did funny things to Hakyeon’s chest. “You wound my pride.”

“Just…” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. He's really tired of them going around in circles. “...if that’s all, I’ll be returning to my work and might even have to toss you outta here myself.”

Hongbin sighs dramatically as if he was denied a treat he wanted. “Fine then. It was fun poking you while it lasted.”

Hakyeon felt a very strong urge to inflict bodily harm.

“I’m here to talk about the photographer position. Have we had any luck on finding another replacement?”

“Ah.” Hakyeon falters, visibly deflating. _“That.”_

“Yes, ‘that’.” Hongbin tilts his head, a pale strand falling into his eye effortlessly. _How unfair._

“Is management concerned?”

Hongbin shakes his head. “No, they aren’t. However, I am, especially when it could mean our jobs on the line if the launch is stalled. They have high expectations for it and they're expecting a mockup catalogue soon and we haven't found anyone to take photos.”

Hakyeon is forced to agree with him on that.

After the announcement of the launch, they’ve been looking for a photographer to be the eye behind their collection catalogue. They didn’t just want someone who has a good eye for fashion, photography and style—they wanted someone _extraordinary_ on the team. Someone who saw beauty in detail, craftsmanship _and_ etiquette. They had a reputation to uphold and they needed someone who knew how to present their works that pokes holes into the bubbles of the beauty industry.

However, they have had no luck in the past two months of searching.

“Well,” Hakyeon sits back onto his stool, crossing his arms. “I’ve interviewed a few candidates last week.”

“Anyone good?”

“Some but not promising enough.” Hakyeon admits.

Hongbin purses his lips. “That’s bad.”

“I still wanna punch the previous guy we tried to have a trial photoshoot with.” He grimaces sullenly.

Hongbin laughs at the memory of it, having been there with Hakyeon and had to physically restrain the older from throttling the photographer—an awfully greasy-faced man with poor manners and bad breath—that tried to manhandle the models and had the gall to comment on the fashion pieces, _Hakyeon’s pieces,_ while on site. Hongbin let Hakyeon have the utmost pleasure to call security and throw the guy out of the building before he could even say ‘smile’.

“I can’t disagree with that one.” Hongbin recounts the memory.

“We’ll need to put that in the contract: no _manhandling_ the models . . . or anyone for that matter.” Hakyeon grimaces at the thought of it, running a hand down his face, eyes closed. “I don’t want any of our models to feel uncomfortable, there’s enough bad rumors we’ve heard from other companies we’ve collaborated with.”

Hongbin nods. “If the next guy is an ass, you’re going to pull a Godzilla on site.”

“I’d do more than that.”

“Well, you are stronger than you look.”

The response catches him off guard and without meaning to, Hakyeon blushes.

When his eyes flicker back to Hongbin, the younger had his back turned, absently playing with one of the cotton sheets placed on the sewing station as if his words didn’t make Hakyeon’s fingertips tingle, a tug in his chest like a star burning brighter in the dark. He clears his throat, composing himself and takes the golden ribbon again, unfurling with deft fingers and turning away before Hongbin saw his reddened face.

“Well, let’s hope our luck pulls through.” He turns back to the mannequin.

Hongbin hums  “...but unfortunately, we only have a few weeks left before we’re supposed to present trial shots of the collection before the board.”

“I’ll keep looking. I’m sure we’ll find someone good for the catalogue.”

“Actually,” Hongbin coolly adds. “I may have a solution.”

Hakyeon blinks in surprise. “You do?”

He doesn’t even bother to hide his relief and it makes Hongbin smile, beautiful in a way that makes Hakyeon think _that’s really really_ really _unfair._

“We could call Taekwoon.” Hongbin offers.

“Taekwoon.” Hakyeon echoes dryly.

“Yes, Jung Taekwoon.” Hongbin repeats, eyebrow raised in amusement. “Why not? His job is to consult companies on who or what they need for the job, he’s well-connected to _lots_ of people. Not to mention, he’s our friend too.”

“But…” Hakyeon hesitates. “I was hoping that going to Taekwoon would be our last resort."

“Hakyeon,” Hongbin deadpans. “I’m like a broken record here. The broad meeting to see the catalogue mockup is only a few weeks away, I’m pretty sure that qualifies for some ‘last resort’ measures.”

Sighing, Hakyeon is forced to agree.

“Ugh, alright...”

“Besides, he was the one that recommended Jaehwan to us, remember? I’m sure he would know someone good enough who could be our photographer, especially with the new project we’re planning _after_ the autumn collection.”

Again, Hongbin does have a point.

They have a special collection planned _after_ the autumn collection, something that’s targeting a niche market, and they hope they’ll find someone good to be part of their team. Hakyeon has worked with Jaehwan for previous launches, a sweet little guy that used to majored in theatre until he was scouted in the middle of a shopping mall where he had been busking with friends.

Hakyeon could live with that fact; Jaehwan is their best model.

Maybe he could ask Jaehwan to be a part of the next collection too.

“Okay.” Hakyeon acquices, getting up from his stool and towards his desk, the one that sits against the tall floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall. It is the only clean desk in the entire workshop, only having a computer and Hakyeon’s bag. He fishes out his phone, sliding in the passcode and turning back to Hongbin.

“I hope he’s not too busy.” Hakyeon mumbles before searching for Taekwoon’s number.

“I’ll contact him.”

Hakyeon blinks.

“What?”

“...and I’ll interview the candidates too,” Hongbin supplies, staring idly at the unfinished piece on some of the mannequins in the workshop. “You focus on getting those designs done. It won’t do if they aren’t finished by the next trial photoshoot.”

Hakyeon raises a brow at him but his eyes turn steely again. “What’s the catch?”

“Should there be any?” Hongbin smiles saccharinely.

It’s not that he hates the help, he actually welcomes it. He’s been spending so many days cooped in his workshop; cutting, sewing, stitching, sorting and measuring fabrics and materials. The embroidery alone takes ages even though he has a few helpers with that but mainly it’s all solely been Hakyeon’s crafts. Not having to go through portfolios and interview possible candidates would . . . take some work off his plate.

He doesn’t doubt Hongbin’s judgement either . . . but the younger always seem to want to be able to get under Hakyeon’s skin. Helping Hakyeon to look for the photographer would ensure their asses don't get fired but what if Hongbin dangles it as a favor before Hakyeon, one he expects to repay when he wants?

“No catches.” Hongbin raises his hands in a show of honesty. “I promise.”

Hakyeon still gives him the stink eye.

Shaking his head with something akin to mild resignation, Hongbin pockets his hand and leans conspicuously closer to Hakyeon. “Okay, fine. You want there to be a catch, I'll humor it. What do _you_ want?”

Hakyeon reels back in surprise. “What?”

“You seem so bent on thinking there was gonna be a catch with my calling a friend to help _us_ out of a dire situation,” Hongbin patiently recalls. “So here's your wish.”

He splutters. “What…?”

“Choose, Hakyeon.” Hongbin singsongs, taking a seat on the stool before him, looking up with those doe eyes that were deceptively innocent. “What sort of catch would you like to have?”

Hakyeon snorts. “You're delirious.”

“...and you're incorrigible.” Hongbin nonchalantly inspects the nonexistent dirt under his nails. “You don't seem to believe I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“I don't need your charity.” Hakyeon groans, wanting to just take one of his sketchbooks from his desk and smack it repeatedly onto Hongbin's stupid face and—

“How about dinner then?” Hongbin casually offers.

The wheels in his mind screech to a stop and Hakyeon is dumbfounded, again. Hongbin has that ability over him. “You can't possibly be serious.”

“Have dinner with me. Spend an evening over good food and my lovely company, then we'll call it even.”

Hakyeon stares at Hongbin, wondering why _this_ sprang up out of nowhere.

In another lifetime Hakyeon would've dropped everything and said—no, no, no, he can't entertain this. _This_ is unprofessional. This goes against what he vowed on that evening a few months ago, where he had been asked this same question by Hongbin at an office party. He had excused himself to the bathroom to freak out, giddy and excited, and when he returned with an answer on the tip of his tongue, he found Hongbin entangled with _someone else._

But that isn't a story he'd like to recount to anyone . . . _or ever._

“No.” Hakyeon answers, a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You hesitated.”

“I did not.”

“Maybe you should reconsider.” Hongbin's eyes entice him with silent promises but Hakyeon refuses to succumb to their will, scared to be burned by the unfathomable fire in them.

“The answer is _no_ , Lee Hongbin.” He huffs indignantly. “Go make that phone call to Taekwoon before I prick you with needles.”

“Always so fiesty.” Hongbin comments but already makes a move to leave.

Hongbin makes a playful show of biting at Hakyeon, which should've been obnoxious but its strangely tantalizing when he flashes those pearly teeth that makes Hakyeon dazed. He maintains his composure when Hongbin languidly gets up to leave but his own hands are shaking behind his back; his skin tingles with a burning want to know what it would feel like to have those lips against his— _whoa, back up there, Hakyeon._

“Perhaps another time.” Hongbin does a dramatic flourish of a chivalrous bow. “If it eases your mind, how about a favor for a favor then? I make the call as a favor to you and you could repay in anyway you see fit.”

“No, that's not very easing to the mind either.” Hakyeon concludes.

“And that is all I have to offer.” Hongbin smirks over his shoulder. “I would've preferred dinner.”

“In your dreams.” Hakyeon snaps.

“Oh, Hakyeon.” His tone is sweet, dripping like honey, as Hongbin saunters towards the door and the heels of his shoes clicking against the concrete. “In my dreams, there would be _more_ than just dinner.”

Hongbin leaves with a resounding click of the door closing and Hakyeon counts to one . . . two . . . _three_ before his knees give out, losing their strength. He lets out a shaky breath, taking a seat back onto the stool that Hongbin had previously occupied and clutches at his chest where he feels his heart thundering wildly in his chest.

That bastard.

That _sexy,_ insufferable bastard.

He hates it that Hongbin can still creep under his skin, igniting a fire in his blood and leave him burning with an itch to surrender at the alluring magic in the younger's eyes.

He gives himself a few light slaps onto both cheeks. _Snap out of it, Hakyeon, you can’t be like this._ He takes a deep breath, deeply aware of how hot his face is and he probably matches the red satin sash still carelessly pinned to the mannequin he's working on. Hongbin could still string him by the flick of his finger, that much is evident, and Hakyeon wishes his resolve could’ve been stronger than that.

On some traitorous and lonely nights, he'd imagined the same thing Hongbin implied but—no. He was already played with once.

He won't let Hongbin play with his emotions again.

 

☆

 

* * *

 

☆

 

Taekwoon really likes the color yellow.

He likes it even more when Sanghyuk wears a yellow sweater too, accentuating his fair complexion and chiseled features with the pout of his pretty lips when he’s deep in thought. He watches the younger’s face pinch in concentration as Sanghyuk gets on his tiptoes to reach the highest shelf in the living room (the ones that Taekwoon always misses out to clean because he’s too lazy to grab a chair) and wipes down the dust with a damp rag.

Taekwoon never likes cleaning those shelves because his allergies always gave his nose hell.

“Hyuk-ah,” he calls out.

He gets a silent raised eyebrow in response.

“Are you...stress cleaning?” Taekwoon bites back an amused smile.

Sanghyuk doesn’t answer, instead pokes his tongue at the older and resumes his cleaning; he’s almost done anyway.

Taekwoon knows Sanghyuk rarely stress cleans (or does any cleaning at all) but he senses it's because Sanghyuk has been getting restless; he’s just graduated from university for a few weeks now and though he’s been taking his time in looking for a job, Taekwoon knows he’s been trying to make himself useful around the apartment.

It’s more than what Taekwoon’s been doing today on his off-day, sitting curled up on the sofa and going through Netflix to see what shows they would stream tonight after dinner. He leans back onto the sofa, clutching a warm mug of coffee and stares at Sanghyuk’s back as he stretches to reach the very back of the shelf.

“Hyuk-ah,” he calls out petulantly. “Sit down please. It’s weird to see you cleaning.”

Sanghyuk laughs at that, unfurling the dirty rag to clean it. “In a second.”

He walks past Taekwoon on the couch and into their small kitchenette, running a tap to rinse the rag out with some soap. Humming silently to himself, Taekwoon scrolls down the list of _‘Award-Winning’_ movies as an indie song plays in the background—a playlist he’d compiled and hooked to their Bluetooth speakers thanks to Sanghyuk’s help—and basks in the relaxing comfort.

He feels a dip on the sofa besides him and turns. “Hyuk-ah—,”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because suddenly, Sanghyuk preses close and kisses him. Melting instantly, his eyes flutter shuts and a warmth blooms in his chest as Sanghyuk’s hand cradles his cheek ardently, fingertips trailing lower before he cups Taekwoon by the nape, making his skin tingle. They sigh in content when Taekwoon feels Sanghyuk’s tongue, sweet and lovely, against his own and is lost in the delicious sensation, already forgetting what he wanted to say.

Sooner than Taekwoon would’ve liked, Sanghyuk pulls away to carefully pluck the mug from his hands and he doesn’t hide his frustrated pout, which makes the younger laugh.

“Sorry, hyung.” Sanghyuk apologizes with a chaste peck to his nose, settling the mug onto the coffee table. “I just cleaned the sofa yesterday, let’s not have you spilling coffee on it if you’re not careful.”

Unabashedly, Taekwoon leans in for a snuggle, nuzzling into Sanghyuk’s chest. The younger laughs heartily and maneuvers Taekwoon to be half-lying on his lap, running a hand down those long legs. Taekwoon’s arms entwined around his neck and presses a kiss to Sanghyuk’s pulse is, content with the proximity. Letting out a happy sigh, Taekwoon then kisses his cheek and tugs the younger’s arms to circle around his waist.

“Why on earth did you freaking cleaned the sofa?”

“Just felt like it.”

Taekwoon chuckles as Sanghyuk kisses his forehead. “Did you feel stressed just sitting at home?”

“Kinda,” Sanghyuk admits, tracing Taekwoon’s cheek with a finger gently. “But mostly because you’ve been overworked lately and I’m a lousy housemate because all I do is bum out at home.”

“That’s not true.” Taekwoon protests, pulling away slightly. “You were just learning how to cook the other day and now you’ve been cleaning, that’s already a lot!”

“In short, the basics of being a good housemate.” Sanghyuk deadpans.

“...and an excellent boyfriend.” Taekwoon clarifies.

“Your standards are low, hyung.”

Sanghyuk falls back laughing when Taekwoon smacks his chest. “I thought you said you were planning to lie low for a few months after graduation.”

Sanghyuk chuckles. “I think I’m already bored.”

“ _Already?_ ” Taekwoon rolls his eyes. “Here I thought I was gonna be able to taste more of your cooking.”

“Aren’t you worried that I might accidentally poison you?” Sanghyuk runs a hand down the older’s nape, fingers tangling in the dark locks tenderly.

“Please don’t.” Taekwoon leans into the touch. “My heart might break that you don’t love me enough to _not_ poison me.”

“Oh, hush,” his hand cups the back of Taekwoon’s neck, pulling him close to press their foreheads together. “I love you.”

Taekwoon’s heart flutters at the words, no matter how times he’s already heard it. Surging forward, he catches Sanghyuk’s lips into another warm kiss, the kind that makes his toes curl and his fingertips tingle to clutch onto the cotton of Sanghyuk’s yellow sweater. Humming with fondness and content, Sanghyuk tilts his head, slotting their lips again and again as they lose themselves to the sensation.

_Brrrrr! Brrrrr!_

Sanghyuk tugs him closer, lips beginning to bruise, breathing little sounds to distract Taekwoon from hearing the sound or at least, entice him to not even acknowledge it. Much to his chagrin, Taekwoon pulls away and fishes his vibrating phone from his back pocket. Sanghyuk groans at the interruption and wraps his arms firmly around his boyfriend’s waist, pouting sullenly as they both read the caller ID: _Hongbinnie_

“That’s a surprise.” Taekwoon notes the difference in icon on the screen. “He’s video calling me.”

“Tell him to call back later,” Sanghyuk whines, planting his chin onto Taekwoon’s shoulder and kisses his neck. “I want more kisses.”

“You brat.” Taekwoon chastises, pecking Sanghyuk’s cheek. “He usually phone calls or texts me. It could be important.”

Sanghyuk snorts but doesn’t say anything else, only tightens his hold onto Taekwoon and it makes the older’s heart flutter with so much adoration; he’s half-tempted to ignore Hongbin’s call and resume kissing his boyfriend senselessly. However, he knows Hongbin well and his junior never usually video-calls unless its important, always preferring to text. Promising Sanghyuk more kisses after the call, Taekwoon’s thumb presses onto the green ‘Answer’ button.

The image zooms out and Hongbin’s image appears on Taekwoon’s screen, slightly blurred but unmistakably him.

“Hello, hyung!’ Hongbin greets. “Oh, hello to you too, Hyuk.”

“Hi, Hongbin.” Taekwoon replies, lacing his phone-free hand with one of Sanghyuk’s hands at his waist while the younger only merely says, “‘sup.”

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Taekwoon snickers when Sanghyuk’s frown deepens, on the brink of affirming it. Squeezing Sanghyuk’s hand to remind him to behave, Taekwoon adjusts the phone screen at a length to get them both into frame.

“Nah, you didn’t. We were just snuggling, going to watch Netflix.”

“Ah, today’s your day off?” Hongbin guesses.

“Yep.” Taekwoon nods. “What’s with the random video call? You usually just text me.”

“That…” Hongbin trails off, looking endearingly sheepish. “I need a favor, hyung.”

Brows shooting up, Taekwoon glances at Sanghyuk and they both share a perplexed look. Sanghyuk may not know Hongbin long enough as Taekwoon does (they used to attend the same university together before Sanghyuk met Hongbin) but Hongbin is prideful at times, an ass who doesn’t know when to ask help even though he obviously needed it.

This makes Taekwoon curious; what changed him?

“What sort of favor?” He turns back to Hongbin in the phone.

“Remember Jaehwan?”

“Yes…?”

“I need a favor like that one again.”

Taekwoon blinks in surprise. “You want me to help you find another model?”

“Nope, a different type of creative professional.” Hongbin shakes his head. “I need a photographer.”

He bites his lip with worry. “I think you give me way too much credit, Hongbinnie. I only managed to recommend Jaehwan the last time because of sheer luck. Besides, Sanghyuk was the one who introduced him to me, it wasn’t like I managed to scout him or got in touch with modeling agencies.”

“Perhaps this could be the last time?” Hongbin suggests timidly.

“Hongbinnie…” he chastises gently. “All of my clientele are mostly entrepreneurs, marketing executives and corporate shareholders. I don’t exactly get in touch with creative or design companies.”

“Why do you need a photographer for?” Sanghyuk asks over Taekwoon’s shoulder.

“We’re about to launch our autumn collection soon and we just haven’t found someone good enough for the job.” Hongbin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in mild frustration. “We need someone who’s good with fashion photography….”

“Shouldn’t that be easy?’

“...with good morals.”

“Oh?” Sanghyuk tilts his head. “Did something happen with your previous candidates?”

“They got grabby with the models.” Hongbin explains. “It’s not a tall order to follow but it’s been surprisingly proving difficult because the _Haus of VIXX_ is heading for a more... experimental taste. We’re trying to appeal to a niche market soon so this autumn collection is actually a preliminary ground to find someone good for the team.”

“That’s actually...risky.” Taekwoon notes.

“Eh, what’s life without a few risks?” Hongin waves it nonchalantly.

“If Taekwoon-hyung doesn’t know anyone, maybe I can find someone from my circle.” Sanghyuk eventually offers, scooting closer to fit into frame; holding the phone up for long is killing Taekwoon’s arm. “Hold on, let me go get my phone, I think I remember seeing something from one of my Kakao groupchats.”

Sanghyuk gently scoots Taekwoon off his lap, pecking him briefly on the cheek before walking into their bedroom to retrieve his phone. Hongbin gags exaggeratedly at the smitten look on Taekwoon’s face, eyes following his lanky boyfriend before he looks back at his phone screen.

“Don’t be jealous.” Taekwoon chides.

Hongbin scoffs. “Why on earth would I be jealous?”  
  
“How are things with Hakyeon?” Leaning back to get more comfortable, Taekwoon smirks at the younger.

“We’re fine.” Hongbin answers curtly. “He’s just been diving headfirst into his designs and I’ve been producing marketing analysis and reports that’ll blow the socks off—,”

“I didn’t mean it that way, Hongbin.” Taekwoon rolls his eyes. “I mean, how are things between you two _together?_ ”

“We’re fine.” Another curt answer.

Taekwoon purses his lips in concern and he doesn’t miss the way Hongbin stiffens at his expression, turning to inspect the nonexistent dust at his fingertips, a coping mechanism for when he’s not interested in talking.

“Hongbinnie…” His tone is bordering onto the kind parents would use on their children, which he knows Hongbin hates. “You can’t keep antagonizing each other, it’s not healthy communication.”

“We communicate just fine.” Hongbin insists stubbornly.

“Hongbin…”

“Hyung, no, you’re starting to sound like my mother.” Groaning, Hongbin hides his grimace into his hands.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to sound like this if you stop being such an ass to him.” Taekwoon patiently counters, feeling a compelling urge to pet Hongbin’s head like a puppy. “I know you two aren’t on the best terms but maybe you should be gentler with him.”

“He doesn’t like it when I’m gentle.”

“Does he now or are you just saying that because you never really tried?”

“I’ve already tried before, hyung.” Hongbin almost snaps, his posture turning defensive as he crosses his arms. “I asked him out for dinner during that office party a few months ago and he just left.”

He blinks in surprise, he’s never heard this story and judging by the way Hongbin’s shoulders were rounding on himself with arms crossed, it spells guardedness and a hint of insecurity. “He just...left?”

“Yeah, he did… At first, he promised he’d come back after I asked, said something about needing a moment to refresh.” Hongbin recounts, picking a loose thread on his sleeve. “I waited two hours for him and then found out from a coworker that he left the building without telling me. _That_ was his answer.”

For a fleeting moment, Taekwoon sees a crack in Hongbin’s eyes—something raw, almost like yearning mixed with hurt—but its gone in a blink. It sparks some worry inside Taekwoon despite not knowing much of what goes on between Hakyeon and Hongbin when they’re not at work. He almost finds it ironic for two charismatic men like them, whose teamwork is evidently formidable on the runway and at fashions show, they had a volatile way of communicating.

Also, that just _didn’t_ sound like Hakyeon; he was many things but to lie and leave like that, even if he had _disliked_ Hongbin, it just didn’t fit.

“Hongbinnie—,”

“That’s in the past.” His tone is stern as if the topic is closed for discussion. “Anyway, I—,”

“I got good news!” Sanghyuk announces as he returns back to the sofa, staring at his phone. “There’s a photography exhibition this weekend at the _Starlight Boulevard_ gallery. Maybe that’ll be something that you’d like to come and check out, Hongbin-hyung?”

“Oh?” Hongbin seems intrigued. “Sweet!”

Even though Taekwoon wanted to ask more, he decides that probing Hongbin can wait another day and smiles at Sanghyuk. “Looks like we have a plan this weekend then.”

“Well, that settles it.” Sanghyuk beams. “I’ll text you the event details in a bit, Hongbin-hyung.”

“I’ll meet you lovebirds there then.” Sighing in relief, Hongbin stretches his arms over his head and they both hear the sound of his bones popping. “Whelp, I should get back to work. Thanks a lot.”

“Anytime.” Sanghyuk grins.

“Bye, Hongbinnie!” Taekwoon waves, which Hongbin lazily returns with a small one of his own, before he ends the call.

The screen of Taekwoon’s phone momentarily turns black before it flickers back on with a photo of him and Sanghyuk at the younger’s graduation. They were happy, his arm around Sanghyuk’s waist, face captured in mid-laugh as the younger kisses his cheek while holding a customary graduation bouquet of roses and baby’s breaths; he really _loves_ that picture.

“I overheard the bits at the very end.” Sanghyuk admits, putting his phone onto the coffee table and Taekwoon does the same with his own. “Are those two gonna be okay?”

“Who knows,” Taekwoon shrugs. “I know how prideful Hongbin can be and Hakyeon is a stubborn mule when he’s provoked enough.”

“For such a good team, those two are a mess.”

Taekwoon chuckles, not disagreeing at all.

As easily as breathing, Sanghyuk curls up close and wraps his arms around Taekwoon’s waist, tugging him close until they’re pressed, hip to hip. Taekwoon goes pliant, turning in time to suddenly feel the younger’s lips on his cheek once, twice, thrice before he moves closer to kissing him fully on the mouth again. Taekwoon sighs and they return back to their familiar gentle rhythm, hands tingling into Sanghyuk’s soft locks.

“I hope soon enough, they finally get their heads out of their asses.” Sanghyuk pulls away, tracing Taekwoon’s bottom lip with a thumb. “I feel kinda feel bad that Hongbin-hyung is gonna have to play third-wheel this weekend.”

“He’s not that delicate,” Taekwoon reassures, taking and turning Sanghyuk’s hand over to pepper kisses over the knuckles lovingly. “But you have a point, he’s all tough around the edges but a big softie on the inside. So, you ought to behave and not randomly ravish me with kisses in public this weekend.”

“No promises, I can never resist you for long.” Sanghyuk snickers, mischievously.

“Cheeky brat.”

Taekwoon rolls his eyes when Sanghyuk chuckles, tilting his chip so their lips met again and again and they melt together in bliss. Taekwoon thinks he’ll never get tired of these kisses, always tender and riddled with passion; sometimes, he feels like the ocean being pulled by Sanghyuk’s gravity in the dark, their love akin to the gentle rocking of waves, boundless and infinite.

He could spend hours just lost in Sanghyuk’s orbit.

 

☆

 

* * *

 

☆

 

Wonshik thinks he doesn’t look too bad in purple.

However, the purple velvet bow-tie he’s been forced to wear clipped to his white button-up shirt is frustrating for the past few hours; it’s too big for the collar, constantly tickling his skin every time he turned his head. The skin-colored band-aids covering his tattoos make his skin itch too. He would’ve ditched them altogether but there’s a silly rule about hiding tattoos at the exhibition and he’s forced to abide by them.

“This feels like a noose.” Taemin appears beside him, tugging at a black bowtie of his own too as they stand near the staff entrance for a quick breather. “I already feel claustrophobic just from wearing this."

“Oh, hush you baby.” Jongin appears, the white bow he’s wearing contrasts beautifully with his golden tanned skin. “Think of the tips we’ll be counting later once this exhibition is over and we can have our own drinks later!”

“How ironic that we’re serving drinks in order to buy drinks later.” Taemin deadpans.

“I just don’t understand why you’re volunteering to work at the photo exhibition when your _works_ are up there on display.” Jongin slings an arm around Wonshik’s shoulder, bumping hip with hip. “You could’ve been chilling on some free champagne and maybe even mingle a little.”

Wonshik waves it off dismissively. “You know I hate parties.”

“Yet your job entails you to serve _at_ parties.” Taemin smirks, patting Wonshik on his belly before settling on his haunches to rest his poor aching feet from hours spent circulating in a large gallery carrying trays of fruity or fizzy drinks. The client that’s hired them to serve at the exhibition had an obsession with exotic blends that were ridiculously expensive. At least it paid the bills, Wonshik decided.

“We’ll celebrate later.” Jongin promises, crouching down as well to pinch Taemin's cheek ardently.

The other squirms away from the touch and Wonshik watches the two of them, heart fluttering with happiness with an unfortunate tinge of something bitter. He wishes he had someone like that, a person whom would let him squeeze them or . . . well, he’d rather not stray too far on that line of thought. He knows it’s not like they’re not doing it on purpose, they’ve been friends for so long even before Jongin and Taemin got together, and he doesn’t harbor a fear of them neglecting him when they’re dating.

However, more often than not, he’s been feeling like the third wheel to their duo dynamism.

An intruder.

“Oi, quit slacking, you butts!” A voice jerks him out of his reverie.

As they all turned to the source of the sound, its Jinki who appears, wearing a similar as them but he had a simple white bow-tie with his hair slicked back. He smiles at them, fondly exasperated. “I was beginning to wonder why my best three suddenly disappeared in the middle of the party.”

“Just a quick breather,” Wonshik explains, smiling lopsidedly. “You saw the crowd today, it’s more than what we predicted.”

“Well, thank goodness we ordered a surplus of food from the caterers.” Suddenly stretching, Jinki groans when his joints crack out of their stiffness. “Honestly, I am beat too and we still have two hours before it ends.”

“What time is it?” Taemin asks.

Wonshik glances at his watch and read the time aloud. “It’s 9.10 p.m.”

“Two more hours.” Jongin echoes, lulling his head to thump gently against the wall.

Jinki chuckles. “Speaking of hours at work, why on Earth are you working, Wonshik-ah?” He goodnaturedly scolds the younger, smacking his back. “You should be there promoting your pieces, not kissing  ass to patrons and fishing for extra tips.”

“I need the money!”

“Sure,” Jongin drawls. “As if the prize money for that competition you won to exhibit your works was a meagre portion. How much was it?”

With a mock-dramatic flourish, he turns to Jinki. “Hyung, how much was it? I think my memory is failing me on this eventful evening.”

“Stop.” Wonshik begs.

“Five hundred thousand won?” Jongin ignores him, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“I think it was double that.” Jinki supplies, ducking Wonshik’s grab at his arm and stood next to Jongin. “It was one million, right?”

“Stop it.” Wonshik whines, cupping his reddening cheeks.

“It was _two_ million won, actually.” Taemin returns, easily squeezing between them and wraps both arms around their frames. “Buy us lunch tomorrow and we’ll never speak of it then, Wonshik.”

“Deal!” Wonshik agrees.

“ _After_ lunch, it’s a different story.” Jongin teases, moving over to nuzzle Taemin that has the older man squirming indignantly. “Today’s quota for teasing will still continue like they always do.”

“You guys are assholes.”

“Okay, enough joking around.” Jinki breaks up Jongin and Taemin, saving the latter from being crushed into a pulp by the hug from the former. “Let’s get back to work.”

Wonshik follows after Jinki, rolling his shoulders to relieve the crick in his back before the older pushes the door open back into the main hall of the exhibition. They return to the sound of people chattering, their heels clicking on the timber laminated floorings and music thumping from speakers discreetly hidden in corners. The hall is packed, folks staring at the exhibited pieces while sipping on drinks. Receiving an encouraging pat on the shoulder by Jinki, Wonshik goes to retrieve a new tray with refilled drinks and resumes his rounds.

He goes to the first floor where he’s sheepish to admit that he has passed a few times for the past hours. He ascends the glass suspended spiral staircase and quickly notices there’s less people on the level before makes a beeline between the meticulously arranged displays. He passes a sculpture made out of torn books, handing out two drinks to some girls staring at the piece with a winning smile.

He makes a turn and sees his own exhibition pieces, a series of photographs he took the past few months. All of the photos depict models—all were his friends—and wearing elaborate pieces of clothes, contrasting against their desaturated skin-tones. Their expressions are blurry, out of focus, hidden in shadows or covered in fabric like half-shrouded mysteries, weightless and enchanting.

Wonshik experiments with the movement of clothes in the photographs, trying to depict airy or sinuous fabric against the sturdiness of skin; almost like high fashion but with a humane subtlety like the fragility of thin cracking ice. He figures he must’ve done something right to win first place in the competition that got him to display the pieces here.

“...one looks good,” he overhears.

“Hyung, you’d say anything looks good.”

He turns to see two young men standing not too far from his own pieces and his mouth turns dry.

The two men are beautiful, tall and compelling in a way that Wonshik wishes he had his camera right now; sneak a picture . . . in the totally not creepiest way ever. One of them, the one with the wispy delicate voice, has deceptively piercing eyes and an illustrious sloped nose with dark hair while the other one with silver hair smiles with far too many teeth, dimpled cheeks, a vision of delicious frosting on a cupcake.

“What about this one?” The former tugs at the younger towards one of Wonshik’s photographs, the one with a woman sitting engulfed by vibrant pieces of yellow and orange fabric from her dress.

Wonshik watches nervously as the silver-haired one bends down to inspect at the label of the piece. “‘Epiphany’ by...Kim Wonshik.”

“It seems…” the older tilts his head to follow the lines of the yellow fabric.

“Expressive,” the other comments, biting his bottom lip with a furrow. “This use of fabric...and the way the photographer obscures certain parts of the face. It’s kinda almost haunting but—,”

Clamming up, he starts retreating— _holy shit they’re talking about my work_ —to slip away without being noticed that he was ogling at them.

“Hey, hyung. I got us drinks and—,”

Wonshik halts in his steps, horrified as everything around him went into slow-motion; the drinks on his trays tumbling off and the blazing colors of all the mixed fruit juices inside spilling over in a spectacle of colors before time rushes with the crash of glass shattering. He hears nothing except the ringing that was already fading in his ears and his thundering heart beating in his chest as he stares down at the mess of spilled juice and broken glass at his feet.

The young man he’d run into blinks down at him, the front of his blazer stained and his glasses in his hands emptied of his contents. Tasting from the bile of panic shooting up his throat, Wonshik feels the blood drain from his face and all he could think was: _shit._

“I’m so sorry,” he stumbles on his words, backing up to bow deeply before the patron. “Sorry!”

_Ohshitshitshit._

Why does he have to be so clumsy? Why does he have to screw things up? Oh, god, Jinki-hyung was going to kill his ass and what if the clients finds out about what happens? What if they take back his winnings? He’s not going to be able to afford rent if they take it away from—

“Wonshik-hyung?”

Utterly surprised, he looks up, jaw dropping. “How do you know…”

“Hyung, don’t you recognize me?” The patron asks.

Suddenly, he wonders why he hasn’t seen it right away; he recognizes the pretty plump lips, the angular and defined jawline with the mischievous twinkle in those brown eyes that always resembled stars to him even in the sunlight.

“ _Sanghyuk?_ ”

He’s blinded by a smile that’s so familiar boyish and beautiful. “Fancy running into you...literally.”

“You—,” he splutters. “You’re….”

How could this happen?

“Hyuk-ah?”

They both turn to the wispy voice behind Wonshik, one of the two men he’d been staring at earlier and a deep blush blooms on his cheeks as he wishes the ground would swallow him whole right that very moment, they must've been Sanghyuk’s friends and a new wave of guilt with burning embarrassment crashes over him. “Hyuk-ah, I’m sorry, I—,”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, hyung. It’ll be easy to wash out.” The younger grins despite the circumstance, patting him consolingly on his shoulder. “You were always so clumsy even back in uni.”

Without meaning to, a chuckle slips past Wonshik’s lips. “Kid…”

“Don’t overthink it, hyung.” Sanghyuk reassures as he gestures at the mess around them. “I’m okay, Taekwoon-hyung. It’s just juice, possibly expensive juice that was thankfully free.”

One of Sanghyuk’s friend, the one with the midnight hair, walks up to him tentatively and stares at the wet stain on his blazer. “We’ll go home soon. I’m not letting you freeze here and who on Earth is this?”

Wonshik doesn’t blame the man’s distrusting glare on him even though he cowers slightly under its intensity; his lion-like gaze like the sun blazing to burn Wonshik up close. Sanghyuk chuckles and slips his hand easily between the older man’s fingers. The gesture seems to placate the older and suddenly, something simply clicks into Wonshik’s mind from this simple exchange.

“This is Kim Wonshik, hyung.” Sanghyuk introduces, thumping a hand benignly onto his shoulder. “Wonshik, this is my boyfriend, Taekwoon.”

“Ah,” he murmurs. “The boyfriend that went to your graduation ceremony a few months ago.”

“Did we meet?” Taekwoon’s gaze softens with curiosity.

“No, I couldn’t make it. Sorry.” Wonshik timidly shifts his weight from foot to foot, uneasily scratching his neck.

Sanghyuk’s laugh is loud like a church bell ringing on a clear day. “Hyung, I graduated a few months ago, it’s okay you don’t have to apologize. It’s a surprise that you’re here, are you working here?”

“Yes.” He nervously balances his tray and stares down at the mess on the wooden floor. “I need to get this cleaned up real quick.”

He’s about to head back to the stairs to quickly grab a mop from the personnel room but something catches his eye; Sangyuk’s other friend, the one with the dashing silver hair, had stepped closer and flash a tentative smile that nearly made Wonshik trip over his very feet. “Pardon me.”

“Y-yes?” Wonshik stutters.

“You’re Kim Wonshik, right?”

He blinks, feeling his cheeks burn hotter. “Yes…?”

“You wouldn’t happen to be the same Kim Wonshik for these photographs, do you?”

His eyes follow the man’s thumb gesturing over at his own photographs and _oh yeah they were talking about that before I made a mess of myself._

“Ah,” the beautiful stranger smiles. “Nothing, just wanted to be sure.”

Wonshik blinks in surprise as he moves over towards Taekwoon, whispering something into his ear, the one that has the crystalline dangly earring and Sanghyuk joins in their whispered chatter. Curiosity burns inside Wonshik, mixed with dread something akin to _oh my god he must really not like me are they talking about my work_ but he remembers he has a job first before his prized exhibition; he doesn’t want Jinki or the others to find his mess before he even manages to clean it up.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He says.

Rushing towards the nearest toilet on the level, he retrieves a mop and a broom before heading back to the mess to frantically start cleaning. Most of the people have steered clear out of his way, moving on from the spectacle he made earlier, but Sanghyuk and his friends lingered close and Wonshik wishes he hasn’t noticed but he _does._ They’ve moved to stand much closer to his photographs, Taekwoon still fussing over the wet stain on the youngest’s blazer but the silver-haired one merely stares at Wonshik’s pieces, invested but also unfathomable.

He looks like he’s severely judging Wonshik’s works, eyes slightly narrowed and pretty lips pursed that has Wonshik nervous as he sweeps the last of the shattered glass out of sight.

“Ya, Wonshik-ah…” Taemin calls out as soon as he dumps the glass into one of the nearest bins he found on the floor. “I overheard a complaint about something being broken—,”

“It's been taken care of.”

“You...didn't break anything, did you?” An unpleasant furrow creases between Taemin's brows, seeing the broom and mop near him. “Anything that...we should be...concerned of?”

“The guy I bumped into was Sanghyuk.” Wonshik explains, putting down the broom to run a hand nervously down his nape. “You remember him, my old roommate Sanghyuk, don't you? Tall sophomore, used to be very skinny and bony with the cute nose?”

“Uh… no,” Taemin raises a brow and puts his hands onto his hips. “What's with the sudden…?”

“He's here.”

“That's...great?”

 _‘His boyfriend is hot and his silver-haired friend is smoking...and the kid hit puberty_ again _and turned into a full course meal’_ is what Wonshik did not supply. In fact, he didn't get to even respond because he hears a familiar voice calling his name again. “Wonshik-hyung.”

Speaking of the devil, Sanghyuk turns up with his attractive pair of older men and Wonshik manages to glimpse at the comical way Taemin's eyes widens at all of them before sharing a look together. Wonshik merely shrugs as if to say _‘I know right?’_

“Hyuk-ah,” he smiles nervously as they all seem to be staring with various levels of interest, Sanghyuk with eagerness, Taekwoon's being critical and their elusive friend's with a cheeky glint in his eyes that makes Wonshik nervous. “Sorry about your blazer, kid. Should I—,”

“Hyung!” Sanghyuk raises his hands in earnest. “Its fine. We actually wanna talk to you about something.”

“Uh…”

Taekwoon chuckles at his expression. “Actually, more like Hongbin wants to talk to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” The elusive friend, finally revealed to be Hongbin, smiles and Wonshik almost melts at the sheer sight of dimples. _Dimples._ “I was really interested in your work, especially with fabrics.”

He glances at the blatant splat on Sanghyuk's blazer and Taemin barely manages to stifle a chuckle, which nearly makes Wonshik grimace; he would deal with pummelling one of his best friends into a pulp later.

“Have you ever worked in fashion before?”

 

☆

 

* * *

 

 

☆

Jaehwan finds brown smudges on his shirt.

Crap.

It’s one of his favorite shirts too—the latest Balenciaga white fit shirt with the branding on the shoulders—and he realizes that perhaps he probably should’ve stopped eating his second (okay, his _eleventh)_ chocolate chip cookie in the photoshoot studio. The stylists are going to fuss over his immense sweet tooth being not good for his weight but he doesn’t really care; he’s did one too many squats _two days ago_ that still left his legs and butt feeling sore from then till today.

He _deserves_ his cookies.

Licking the last of the crumbs from his fingers, he absently swipes his hand over his ripped skinny jeans (these were only H&Ms, he’s not too bothered if they get too dirty) and hops off the chair he’s been sitting the past hour, waiting for his turn on hair and makeup. There aren't a lot of people for today's trial shoot, only a few other models that Jaehwan smiles at with recognition and a few stylists arranging their equipment in front of the vanity mirrors.

“Jaehwan-ah!”

He looks up to see Hakyeon’s beaming face, whose makes a beeline to him and squeezing politely between staff members. As expected, Hakyeon launches himself onto Jaehwan and nuzzles into his neck like a kid who just found his favorite stuffed teddy bear again. Patting the older chastely on the back and getting a whiff of perfume (today Hakyeon smells of pears and freshly fallen rain), he pulls away and instantly notices the slightly furrow in Hakyeon’s brow.

“Hyung, you look kinda nervous.”

Hakyeon hums. “Am I that obvious?”

“Is it about the photographer position thingy?” Jaehwan vaguely remembers the dilemma from the last time he saw Hakyeon a few weeks ago. “I thought you were the one that interviews them before they do the trial photoshoot.”

“This time, its Hongbin who recruits the photographer.”

“Oh?” Jaehwan’s brows shoot up. “That’s...great, isn’t it? I know you and Hongbin don’t always get along but the guy’s judgment can be pretty spot-on.”

Hakyeon shrugs doubtfully. “I don’t distrust Hongbin nor his judgment but the deadline is only two weeks away. I’m a little stressed to think about all the stuff we’d have to pull through at the last minute to get the mockup catalogue down _if_ the guy today pulls through. Also, this is the first time I’ve ever meeting the photographer.”

“That’s….a little concerning,” Jaehwan notes, letting Hakyeon squeeze his hand for some comfort. “I'm sure it'll work out.”

He knows his words are probably futile but Hakyeon smiles, appreciating the notion, and laces their fingers in a way that Jaehwan knows it's just the older's way to loosen his nerves

“Your roots are showing.” Hakyeon notes, using his free hand to run through Jaehwan’s bleached tresses.

“Yeah, I should probably touch it up.” Jaehwan contemplates as Hakyeon plays with a curl. “But I’m also thinking about dying it, maybe get some highlights if my scalp can take it.”

“Oh, what color?”

“Maybe lavender?”

Hakyeon’s brows shoot up. “Lavender blonde. That would look _extremely_ pretty on you.”

“You say any color looks good on me, hyung.” Jaehwan chuckles.

“It’s the truth!” Hakyeon cups his chin gently, tilting his face towards the light. “With your exquisitely sharp jawline, you look more like an ethereal fairy than a human. Yes, lavender would suit your skin tone and oh, I can already imagine the make-up looks I could try on you.”

Hakyeon’s hand moves to his ear and Jaehwan giggles, ticklish that makes the older play with his earlobe almost lovingly.

“There you are!”

They both turn to the sound of Hongbin’s voice as the financial executive director walks up to them. Jaehwan thinks he looks devastatingly handsome even in just black shirt and pale jeans, notices the way Hakyeon’s smile disappears and his hand drops from Jaehwan’s altogether.

“Yes?” his tone is clipped when Hongbin is near enough.

“Sorry to interrupt your little lover’s session,” Hongbin’s smile is deceptively saccharine, glancing between the two of them like a tiger waiting to pounce. “But I think it'll be preferable for you to meet the photographer before we start things today.”

Jaehwan isn't ruffled by the comment at all; he has worked on a lot of collections and projects with Hakyeon more than Hongbin has and everyone within the company knows they're good friends, he just doesn't understand why Hongbin always seem so curt with him

“It's a short notice but hopefully, things will pull through.” Hakyeon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose concernedly. “Fine, let's meet this guy. I hope you picked someone good, Hongbin.”

“I should head over to hair and makeup then.” Jaehwan pats Hakyeon's shoulder reassuringly.

Hakyeon smiles in return and Hongbin merely nods as they both watch Jaehwan leave to talk to one of the stylists. He barely takes a few steps away before he hears Hongbin speaks again, low under his breath, to Hakyeon. “You both were cuddly.”

“None of your business.”

Jaehwan shakes his head, sighing over _oh god those two are such idiots._ He’s worked with them long enough to know that they have something going on, although what he’s not entirely sure, but he vaguely remembers a time they weren’t hostile—he definitely recalls one time Hongbin once smiled at Hakyeon and the older beamed in return.

He also knows what happens to the office party on Hakyeon's end . . . but he has a feeling there's a missing piece to it from Hongbin's side. Maybe those two will work whatever it was between them.

“Ningning-ah!” he hears.

“Oh, hey!” He beams at the sight of Heeyeon, a fellow model he’s worked with and a dear friend, he hasn't seen her in _forever_ yet notices the way she's barefaced, clutching onto a cup of coffee _._ “Did you just arrive?”

“Yeah, traffic was hell but I made it in time!” She chuckles upon noticing the small brown smudge on his sweater. “You have crumbs all over your shirt.”

“Shh!” He hushes her.

“How many did you eat this time? Twelve?”

“Only eleven.” He pouts sullenly.

She giggles. “Oh, Ningning-ah… you’re going to get diabetes one day.”

“I won’t!” He whines petulantly as they're both ushered to their seats, stylists already prepping them immediately with moisturizer and primer, utilizing beauty sponges and brushes. They talk a little about everything and nothing in the midst of foundation, eyeshadow and hairspray. Jaehwan indulges listening to Heeyeon talk about her time spent recently in Paris  for Fashion Week with her housemates and wishes he could see her more often.

“How's your new apartment?” she asks after taking a long sip of coffee to replenish. “I heard that you bought an apartment unit up on the Uptown District.”

“I actually haven't moved in yet.” He admits sheepishly. “I've got a few days left from my old lease before I'm supposed to move to my new place so I'm probably going to head home right after this and pack everything up.”

She lets a general ‘ah’ of understanding.

“Are you free later? I know packing isn't always fun but I'd love for us to catch up in the meantime. We could order pizza like we used to!”

She drops her eyes from his gaze, crestfallen. “Ah, I'm sorry, Ningning but I'll be flying out tomorrow to Milan.”

“Already?” he pouts.

She shrugs. “I've got some shows to attend over there. You know it's almost runway season. I'm sorry I can't help you out, you know I would've if I could…”

Jaehwan tries very hard not to sink dejectedly into his chair at the news. He really misses Heeyeon but that's what it has been like lately between him and his friends; rain-checked or missed plans, their schedules not lining up and not seeing each other for long stretches of time. He knows that's the circumstances of their careers but _still . . ._

“I've just missed you so much,” he whines, pouting for good measure.

“I know, I've missed you too.” She squeezes his hand ardently. “But I can't wiggle out of this even if I wanted. Solji-unnie would whoop my ass.” They chuckle and Jaehwan remembers the oldest of Heeyeon's roommate.

“Can't Hakyeon or Hongbin perhaps help you out?”

He figures that's an option but not a likely one to happen. Hakyeon will likely be busy trying to gear everything up for the collection launch and he doesn't think Hongbin likes him, judging from the earlier snippet he'd overheard.

“Maybe.” He lies.

She smiles encouragingly. “I'm sure if you asked, they'll be okay to help out. You've known them longer than I have, you'll be fine.”

Jaehwan desperately wishes it is that case. He doesn't hate modeling, he quite likes it—especially when he works with Hakyeon on some daring collections and appreciates the older's faith in him—but the life expectancy of their career is often short and unpredictable if he's not careful or lucky.

However, he doesn't wish to go back to the days when he was fresh out of college with a mountain of student debt and always struggling to make ends meet. Those weren't his best days.

Although . . . he does miss the friends he used to have back then; the best bunch of goons from college, and some of them have known each other since they were in high school when they all were awkward with the mess of puberty. He recalls his old high school, the soccer field with the smell of wet grass every Monday morning, their classrooms where they laughed and a beautiful smile of his biggest high school crush, droopy eyes with a hooked nose—

_Whoa._

He shakes his head to snap himself out of his thoughts, only to be reprimanded by a stylist who was trying to fill in his sparse eyebrows.

“Sorry.” He pouts, instantly making the stylist soft for him and Heeyeon snickers at his play.

Sighing, he faces the mirror again. Jaehwan hasn’t thought about _him_ in years and with good reason too. The last time they saw each other had been . . . well, he’d rather not think about it. There’s a reason why he’s buried those memories.

Now it isn't the time for nostalgia.

By the time he’s done with makeup, they’ve fitted him into a black tailored suit.

He thinks it’s an interesting piece, the suit with a white belt crisscrossed around his torso to give emphasis on his waist, and black tight pants. The fabric and the delicate floral embroidery shimmers with every movement he makes. Interestingly, he notices they didn’t give him any shoes to wear, only a blood red sash to hold. As he stands with the other models, he notices he’s not the only one; everyone is given a piece of fabric to hold onto.

“You lost weight,” Heeyeon approaches him after her makeup is done, poking at his cheek while clutching a velvet red cloth that glistens like liquid fire.

“Darling, it’s the contour.” He tilts his head back, his cheeks catching the light. “I didn’t lose _that_ much anyway.”

“Yes, you did.” She puts her hands on her hips, flicking a purple strand of hair from her eyes lined with bold gold kohl. “You’re beginning to lose your mochi cheeks, it’s actually concerning, Ningning.”

“We can grab some food after the shoot, what do you say?”

“Sushi?!”

“Hell yes!"

“Can someone kindly bring in the models?” He hears Hakyeon’s voice echo a few yards away where they’ve set up the lights and the cameras.

A stylist guides them into the brightly lit studio that only has a simple navy backdrop . . . with multiple big fans. Jaehwan instantly sees Hakyeon, whose back is turned while in the midst of a conversation with Hongbin and someone unfamiliar, all of them hunched over a small table where Jaehwan glimpses they’d lain a large portfolio of photos.

He wonders if the photographer they’ll be working with today will be good.

“Okay, they’re here. Let’s meet everyone.”

Hakyeon is the first to turn towards them, the face of professionalism with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a determined light in his eyes, and Hongbin walks away from the desk, revealing the photographer into Jaehwan’s line of vision.

“This is—,”

_No way._

Jaehwan halts, an electric current of recognition ripple through his veins, numbing his fingers and dropping his jaw at the sight of a face that’s familiar from memory but so different; staring at features that used to be sweeter, softer and less angular, now handsome and Jaehwan’s heart aches with longing and . . . dread. 

“—Kim Wonshik.”

Wonshik gets up and walks around the table to bow at all of them in greeting. “Nice to meet all of y—,”

The moment Wonshik’s eyes land onto Jaehwan, every fibre inside his body started to scream _run run run oh god just run_ but he simply cannot, not when those beautiful brown eyes bring back memories flooding into his mind. Nights spent by the pier after classes, docks aligned with iron-wrought lampposts and paper lanterns filled with wishes that never came true.

“Jaehwan?”

This . . . is going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

☆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few confessions about this fic:
> 
> \- This fic will NOT be a slowburn. As much as I LOVE slowburns, ‘So Romantic’ will only have about 7-8 chapters because i still wanna focus on finishing Kaleidoscope but Kaleidoscope deals with a lot of heavier emotional stuff (which consequently takes longer to write) so consider this as like a guilty pleasure of mine . . . which it is :3  
>   
> \- Bin is an ass but i had fun writing him  
>   
> \- Poor overworked Hakyeon with that pain in his ass hehehehe  
>   
> \- Luck is the cutest sappiest thing ever OMG  
>   
> \- This fic is an extremely convoluted ploy to write Jaehwan wearing...specific pieces of clothing (i’ll leave that to your naughty imagination ;> all will be revealed soon)  
>   
> \- Rating will also change (look forward to that, ye nasties uwu)  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. For Our [Orange] Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only luck will unravel the fabrics of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS FINALLY HERE!  
> yes, it took a while to get here huhuhu I'm sorry it took so long  
> Masters have been kicking my butt but dont worry, this chapter is 11k+ words long!  
> hehehe so enjoy~ uwu

* * *

☆

**— 2 —**

**For our [** Orange **] sunrise**

☆

* * *

 

Hongbin has been staring at the navy wall for the past few hours. 

There are light boxes set up, yellow tones on the left side of the wall with red ones on the opposite, a symphonic wash of colors. The staff members are cleaning the singular platform perched at the center, pristinely white like crystalized milk. Standing purposefully behind the monitors, he watches Wonshik adjust the lens of his camera as they rotate models. 

“I didn’t know Jaehwan knew Wonshik.” Hakyeon comments. 

 

“Neither did I,” Hongbin admits. “What a juicy small world we live in.”

 

From his stance, Hongbin can already tell that Hakyeon is already taking notes of the way Wonshik is directing one of the models onto the platform, undoubtedly noticing that the photographer is keeping to the agreement of no physical contact thus far. He’s been quite remarkable to watch, despite being visibly nervous from having to consistently ask the staff to adjust the direction of the large metallic fans prop out of view from the monitors.

 

Hongbin thinks the wind is a nice touch; they get the fabrics to billow majestically into view. 

 

Its invigorating to see Wonshik sometimes excusing himself and taking over the model’s spot to demonstrate the poses and fabric movement to them, not with the intention to ridicule but explaining the vision he has clearly for every single one of them. It's almost like he’s reading them like living and breathing sculptures, coaching them how to shine to their fullest potential. Watching this makes Hongbin feel . . . reassured; even if he doesn’t have a lot of creative wisdom, he knows without a doubt that he’s watching a  _ master _ immersed into his craft.

“Where did you find this guy?” Hakyeon whispers as Wonshik starts to stare at Heeyeon’s dress critically as if he’s trying to solve a difficult mathematical question. 

“Oh, do I smell an incoming compliment?” Hongbin finds it difficult to not tease. “If I tell you, are you going to sing praises in my favor?”

“Hongbin…” Hakyeon’s tone is warning.

He smiles innocently. “What?”

Instead of answering, Hakyeon groans. “ ...I'll praise you  _ only if  _ his photos turn out to be good.”

“You doubt my ability?”

He merely receives a withering glare in response. 

“Oh, boo, you're no fun today.”

“We have a deadline. Cease your dramatics please.”

The financial director rolls his eyes in mock-exasperation. “Fine. I met Wonshik at a photo exhibition.”

Hakyeon raises a brow at him, a silent question for an elaboration. 

“Taekwoon’s boyfriend knows him so he introduced us to Wonshik...after he spilled expensive blended juice all over the guy.”

He almost cackles at the way Hakyeon’s face scrunches in a way that says  _ ‘seriously?’ _

“...Taekwoon’s boyfriend?”

“Remember Han Sanghyuk? Taekwoon mentions you might remember **—,** ”

“He’s dating that baby?!”

Hakyeon clasps a hand over his big mouth after the words tumble out without restraint. Ducking his head slightly, he clears his throat and resumes his regular volume of speech, which nearly makes Hongbin chuckle at how  _ cute _ **—** no, cute is bad. Reel it back, Lee Hongbin. 

“Why yes, please say it louder so that Taekwoon could come over and beat you to a pulp for calling his boyfriend a ‘baby’.” Hongbin drawls, fighting the curling twitch at the corner of his lips. “The kid isn’t a baby anymore. Kid grew a few inches since the last time I saw him about a year ago.”

“I haven’t seen Hyuk since his finals before graduation.” Hakyeon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“If I recall correctly, he would be turning twenty-three this July, wouldn’t he?” 

“Oh, yeah, he would. Our birthdays are close to each other.”

“Oh. Any birthday plans then?”

_ Shit.  _ Why did he ask that? He catches a glimpse of disbelief in Hakyeon’s eye and somehow, Hongbin gets the feeling that his skin is raw, burnt under a blazing sun and his brain decides to shift gears. “I’m just asking in case I’d find you showing up to work drunk the next day from partying too hard.”

It does the trick because Hakyeon is scowling and Hongbin’s skin doesn’t feel like it’s on fire. “...I will beat you to a pulp, Hongbin.” 

“You  _ wish  _ you could spank me.”

Hakyeon groans, dropping his face into his hands. “Why do I even tolerate you?”

“Because we’re  _ the _ formidable team in the Haus of VIXX. Have you already forgotten that we won a Best Designer Award last year when we launched our Spring collection?”

The older blinks at him, stunned. “What’s your point?”

It’s Hongbin’s time to shoot his own withering glare, heaving a sigh. “My point is you deserve fun, hyung. You work too hard.”

The discombobulating switch from frantic surprise to utter horror on Hakyeon’s face is almost comical that Hongbin barely managed to curb the urge to cackle. “Who are you and what have you done with Lee Hongbin?”

“Well, why don’t you come over for dinner and find out?” He wriggles his eyebrows.

“For the love of **—** ,” Hakyeon looks positively flustered, hands flailing and Hongbin wishes his insides didn't turn to mush at that. “ **—** I will  _ not  _ have dinner with you, Hongbin. That’s unprofessional.”

Hongbin rolls his eyes, murmuring under his breath. “That’s not what you said at the office party.”

Okay,  _ fine,  _ maybe he shouldn’t have brought up dinner in the middle of work and it’s frustrating that Hongbin lets himself go this path only to feel this way; as if he’s taking a step forward to Hakyeon only to move two steps backwards; a wound sliced open again only to be painfully be rubbed with grain after grain of salt. He turns away, uncaring if Hakyeon had heard him or not and stares harder at Wonshik, which is what they’re  _ supposed  _ to be doing.

Hakyeon clears his throat, cutting the icy silence. “I should probably pay a visit to Taekwoon’s.”

“...and disturb him in his love nest. Right, good idea.”

“You know he’s not like that.” Hakyeon frowns. 

Hongbin shrugs. “You weren’t the one that had to play third-wheel to them last weekend and be forced to watch them be gross lovers.”

“Don’t be sour.” Hakyeon chastises. “Although, I wouldn’t expect less from the king of anti-romance.”

“If you’re implying I have no game, I’m offended by that.” Hongbin raises a finger defensively. 

“Good because being a schmoozer isn’t the same as being a romantic.” 

“Sounds like you have wishes to be romanced by me.”

“I most certainly do not.” Flaring his nostrils, Hakyeon aims another stone-cold glare at Hongbin but the younger is already walking away, closer to the monitor and watching the lighting executive filter the pictures taken. He watches with interest as Wonshik snaps photo after photo, a litany of seamlessness of the fabric and the model.

“Could you zoom in on this one?” Hongbin gestures at a random photo.

The executive clicks onto the image before a new batch of pictures emerges, maximizing the photo window onto fullscreen. 

It is a gorgeous shot of Heeyeon, her entrancing brown eyes gazing into the camera with the sinewy red cloth covering the lower part of her face; sheer and teasing against the shape of her plump lips, sensuality bleeding from the caress of her hair with the motion of fabric. Hongbin smiles at the clarity of her billowing dress as if she's underwater, her figure silhouetted but not overwhelmed by the volume.

Wonshik isn't just good; he is  _ great.  _

“Last shot.” Wonshik smiles from behind the camera. “Go for it, Heeyeon-nim.”

She spreads her arms up high above her head, the fabric swaying in waves as the wind shifts with a hint of her alluring smirk, which Wonshik manages to snap like straight out of a dream. Hongbin smiles, extremely pleased, knowing that even though he’s not a creative expert he can see that this Wonshik guy is the man they want for the job. 

All Hakyeon has to do is just offer him the job.

“Amazing!” Wonshik beams, bowing as Heeyeon slowly gets off the platform, careful to not step on her dress.

He can feel Hakyeon approaching beside him, staring at the image and pressing a key to skim through the photos. For a while, Hongbin sees the crease between his brows, the concentration is visible but the glint of relief and, most definitely, barely restrained and glowing satisfaction is evident; he feels surely small victories are going to come their way.

“Bring in Jaehwan,” he hears someone says. 

Oh.

This will be interesting. 

Crossing his arms before moving to sit in the director’s chair, Hongbin turns to where the model is, emerging forth, features set with poise and regality, a contrast to how he had seemed blindsided when seeing Wonshik for the first time. The photographer moves towards one of the fans, politely asking the staff to tilt it before he returns back to the camera. Hongbin watches intensely as they lock eyes again on the set, eyes narrowed like a hawk to catch the miniscule of details. 

He finds . . . nothing; no smile nor grimace.

They’re both the faces of professionalism, Wonshik bowing politely and Jaehwan nodding mutely in response, his immaculate face like a statue; beautiful yet stoic. The photographer gestures the model towards the platform and they exchanged no more words as Jaehwan steps barefoot onto the clean platform, the black material of his suit like inky water when the fan is angled in his way. 

The elegant silvery embroidery, Hakyeon’s meticulous handiwork, glimmers like starlight as Jaehwan fixes his intense gaze into the lens of Wonshik’s camera. 

Hongbin notices quickly, with growing interest, that Wonshik doesn’t even have to instruct Jaehwan like the other models. 

The following silence is mildly disarming; Jaehwan moves subtly like a bird in flight, moving with the washes of light; the iridescent rosebud color of his eyeshadow with the red sash and the wisps of his suit ripples gracefully around him like plumes of smoke. Wonshik’s camera goes off constantly, snapping almost ceaselessly (except for the rare times he instructs ‘look up, Jaehwan-nim’, ‘eyes closed, Jaehwan-nim’, ‘arms out, Jaehwan-nim’) and its captivating to witness the downpour of flawless photo after flawless photo onto the monitor screen he’s sitting next to. 

The amalgamation of two masters in their craft, a dance of water and fire . . . he wonders if this is how people feel when they see Hakyeon and himself in board meetings; he can tell he’s not the only one entranced by the two.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Hakyeon’s eyes flitting between the two, arms crossed with a hand tucking his chin contemplatively.

“I can hear you thinking.” He remarks. 

“I’m always thinking.”

“Think any harder and you’ll get premature wrinkles.”

Normally, Hakyeon would perhaps scrunched his face at him, an expression between a pout and scowl, yet Hongbin is mildly surprised when he receives nothing. Hakyeon’s focus intensifies, telling him maybe he should focus on the photoshoot instead of the alluring shape of the older’s smoldering eyes **—** yep, reel it back  _ right  _ now, Hongbin. 

He looks away only to find Jaehwan’s head is levelled straight towards the lens, his hand touching the base of his neck sensually. Wonshik never wavers to capture all of it like Jaehwan is the marvelous sunset he’s chasing before it goes away. 

“Do you think they had a history?” Hongbin wonders aloud.

“Even if they did, you can’t be butting it and being all nosy and sniffing out details.”

“I beg to differ, a little gossip doesn’t hurt.” He shrugs. “...and I’m not nosy.”

“Then, why are you curious about those two?” 

“Just wondering what your boy toy is to our lovely new photographer.”

Hakyeon frowns. “Jaehwan is not my boy toy.”

“Didn’t look like it earlier.” 

“Are you jealous?”

Hongbin quirks a brow at the older. “Are you insinuating that you want me to be? Oh, Hakyeon, you sweet little thing.”

A flush creeps up onto Hakyeon’s cheeks and Hongbin’s heart flutters at the sight of it. “Jaehwan and I have worked together on more projects than you and I ever have, Hongbin. We’re close colleagues  _ and  _ good friends, everyone knows that so stop trying to discredit my professionalism.”

“Okay.” Hongbin placates, his hands raised in surrender. “You and fairy boy aren’t a thing. I get it.”

“It better be crystal clear.” Hakyeon hisses. “Perhaps you would’ve recognized that if you had more friends.”

“There are many types of other friends, Hakyeon.” 

“Yet you don’t seem very prolific.”

“How touching that you’re concerned for me.”

“I’m not. We’re not friends, Hongbin.”

“Were we ever?”

There’s a flash of something unfathomable onto Hakyeon’s face but it’s gone as fast as it had appeared. Instead, a scowl settles on his features and Hongbin almost cowers under the tenacity of it, feeling like he’s witnessing cracking ice under his feet. “...you're right, we never were.”

Hongbin turns away, unsettled; had he gone too far with teasing Hakyeon today?

Before he could ponder, Hakyeon pointedly looks away from him and back to Wonshik who is watching Jaehwan descend the platform, already finished with the shoot . . . faster than he thought was possible at the rate they’ve progressed all day. When Jaehwan turns to Wonshik, there’s a twitch at the corner of the model’s mouth, a twinkle in his eyes.

Wonshik smiles in return and bows, thanking Jaehwan for a good job. 

As they brush past each other (Wonshik to readjust the fan and Jaehwan to return to the changing room), Hongbin hears the fan motor revving suddenly and there's a brief yet strong gust of wind, making the red cloth fly from Jaehwan’s hand and hit squarely in Wonshik's face. Hongbin stifles a chuckle at the photographer blubbers in surprise at the slap of cotton to his face, Jaehwan laughs and helps him, taking it carefully off his face. 

Watching all of it feels like the hush before the fireworks. 

They share a look for a split second, too brief to be appear meaningful, but Hongbin still  _ sees  _ it; Wonshik’s smile wavers, eyes darting before he stammers a hasty ‘thank you’ before turning back to the camera. Jaehwan appears unperturbed but when he bows to thank the other staff, Hongbin  _ sees  _ the miniscule side glance he throws at Wonshik’s direction.

Oh.  _ Oh.  _

Hongbin sees it as clear as day:

It’s  _ longing.  _

☆

* * *

☆

Wonshik fidgets in the emerald green sofa he’s sitting on. 

He thinks it’s a gorgeous color, contrasting beautifully with the dark wooden coffee table before him as he sits in the  _ Haus of VIXX  _ lounge room. He had walked past their reception lobby and one of the meeting rooms **—** the one where he sat alone earlier until Hakyeon asks him to sit and wait in the lounge of the design production department. From what little he’s seen of the offices, he marvels at the apparent expensive taste of the production powerhouse; the stainless steel tables, the gleaming frosted glass walls, the velvet couches and the plush carpets stark against the solid concrete floors. Everything about this office exudes charisma of a refined kind and it does . . . little to soothe his nerves.

Actually, he wishes desperately for his nerves to go away. 

Sure, he feels a tad out of place in a prestigious office like this but . . . it isn't  _ just _ the nerves. 

There's another warring emotion, one he could name is giddiness, that’s mixing with his anxiety like oil with water and he struggles to remain still. He laces his fingers, trying to fight the buzz creeping to the tips of his being but there's a compelling curl of a smile fighting its way through with the eagerness that is blooming inside him.

Jaehwan is  _ here.  _

_ Jaehwan is here.  _

To say it was a surprise to see his old best friend would be a  _ huge  _ understatement. 

He hasn't seen Jaehwan since their high school graduation and almost didn't recognize him when he walked out of the changing room; the shiny gleam of his hair, the sharpness of his jawline, and the refined gait of his demeanor. Only the name had been familiar. However, as they went and did their job first (he had to remind himself that he still had to impress the  _ big boss _ with his work), he noticed little things that was reminiscent of the young lad he once knew; the pretty twinkle in his eyes, the unmistakable elf-like ears and the alluring plumpness of his lips. 

Wonshik clears his throat, trying not to delve too deep into that line of thought when he feels the heat rise to his cheeks.

He always knew Jaehwan was pretty . . . but to see him having blossomed into this rose of a person. 

Lord have mercy on his poor soul. 

“Wonshik?”

Snapping up in alert, Wonshik scrambles to stand up only to have his knee knocking into the low coffee table before him, hitting a nerve. Pain flaring rapidly, he barely manages to bite back a curse and Hakyeon’s radiant smile softens with concern. 

“Oh, are you alright?”

“Yeahyeahyeah,” Wonshik stammers, rubbing at his bruised knee vigorously. “Yeah, I’m...I’m okay.”

He blushes furiously at the kind look in Hakyeon’s eyes as the senior executive designer approaches him, carrying a few pictures of the photoshoot earlier in his hands and sitting in the equally vivid green couch across the table. Wonshik sits down again, trying not to flinch and make a bigger fool out of himself.

“Nervous?” Hakyeon smiles. 

“Am I that obvious?” Wonshik rubs at his nape. 

“It's okay to be a little nervous.” Hakyeon reassures, thumbing the edges of the pictures to count them. “It shows that you’re worried about  _ actually  _ doing a good job.”

Wonshik doesn’t really know how to answer that so he merely keeps quiet, choosing to instead to start fiddling with his thumbs as Hakyeon lays down the pictures onto the table.  

“These are some that I picked from the pile for review.” He assorts them side-by-side, fanning them out and Wonshik hopes he doesn't look too enamored by the enchanting motions of Hakyeon's hand, especially the slope of his wrist down to his fingers.

When he first walked into the warehouse several hours earlier for the photoshoot with Hongbin, he remembers being introduced to Hakyeon, the one Hongbin says he would have to  _ seriously  _ impress, and he remembers shrinking from how  _ gorgeous _ the man is; the honey-like quality of the older’s voice when he approached Wonshik with a firm handshake. 

What is his life reducing to? 

Some kind of convoluted plot that involves a walking harem of beautiful men? Because if it is . . . he's not going to complain. 

“—striking.” Hakyeon raises a brow. “Wonshik?”

“Ah.” He slaps himself out of his reverie;  _ not the time to be ogling at his potential boss.  _ “So sorry, I spaced out.”

The corner of Hakyeon’s lip twitches. “I was just saying that the lighting you incorporated into the shot is very striking. I was wondering if you have any ideas of incorporating other types of textures into the lighting?”

“Oh,” Wonshik forces his brain to rev into action, to think for  _ ideas.  _ “You could always layer things like lace or dollies near the lights to cast lovely shadows onto the models.” Wonshik scoots closer, looking closer at the photos. “I’ve never really tried it before but I know it could produce really dramatic shoots.”

“How about something not as intense?” Hakyeon asks, resting his chin delicately on his hand. “What would you do if we wanted romantic imagery?”

The movement is mesmerizing that it makes Wonshik wonder if Hakyeon was ever a dancer—okay, he seriously needs to  _ stop _ staring. 

“There’s always the use of soft lighting . . . and the use of neutral to warm colors for the background.” Wonshik offers, hoping his words could articulate accurately the visions he had. “Subtlety is key for romanticism, I believe, so those would be the important factor to remember about taking delicate shots.”

“Do you have any other samples of such work?”

Wonshik’s face cripples to sheepishness. “Only amateur work. Nothing professional. I don’t get many opportunities to do such editorial shoots.”

Hakyeon shifts, his stare remains contemplative. “How much experience do you have?”

“To be very honest…” Wonshik pauses, biting his bottom lip. “...not a whole lot.”

“Why is that?” 

He shifts, trying not to squirm under Hakyeon’s gaze. It isn’t menacing but it is critical like being put under a microscope. “I've entered a lot of competitions and submitted my portfolio to several creative companies but they never liked my work enough to ever hire me."

"I like your work."

"Oh, t-thank you." He wishes the tips of his ears hadn't started to burn at such a simple compliment.

"So you've had no experience with fashion photography?"

"Not until the competition I won recently."

"Ah," Hakyeon says with an air of understanding. "Yes, the photography competition Hongbin told me that you won the first prize of. It's these ones, correct?"

Hakyeon flips open the photographer’s portfolio, revealing shots of the desaturated models covered in billowing vibrant garments and clothes. He assesses them with a sharp eye, the piercing kind that would've made shivers run up Wonshik's spine if he were the receiving end of it, a look that had no sliver of emotion. 

"Where did you study photography?"

"I...didn't." Wonshik admits. "My parents weren't able to afford classes for me so I'm mainly self-taught."

"Hmm."

Feeling the sweatiness of his hands, Wonshik laces them against his knee and tries not to fidget too obviously as he watches Hakyeon skim between his preview shots and his portfolio. 

"How long have you been taking photos?"

"Since I was ten."

Hakyeon raises a brow. "You started young."

"Wished I started younger."

"Nonsense." Looking up, Hakyeon smiles goodnaturedly. "Everyone has their own pace."

Wonshik's smile wobbles slightly but he feels touched to hear that. Hakyeon really did seem to be a courteous guy and he wondered what it would be like to see this man in board meetings and behind fashion shows. Would Hakyeon be just as gracious as he is now? Or would he be formidable and charismatic?

...he really needs to stop ogling at Hakyeon.

Like right now. 

"—you start?" 

It takes Wonshik an embarrassing moment to realize that he'd lost track of hearing again. Flustered, heat creeps up to his cheeks as he stammers. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, sir."

To his surprise, Hakyeon laughs airily; the sound dainty like a twinkle of a bell on a clear summer day. If anything, it makes Wonshik's cheeks burn hotter and the lithe way Hakyeon's hand brushes it aside, it belies that this man is probably accustomed to being admired. 

"Just call me 'Hakyeon' please."

"Sorry, si—H-Hakyeonm sir."

Hakyeon laughs again and Wonshik wants nothing more than to curl into the couch he was sitting in. “I quite like you, Wonshik.”

That did nothing to ease the heat in Wonshik’s cheeks, burning hotter than the sun probably by now. 

“T-Thanks?”

“I’d like to take a leap of faith.”

Something inside Wonshik perks up. “...what do you mean, sir—I mean, Hakyeon?”

The curl of Hakyeon’s smile is akin to a flower blooming, gradual yet breathtaking. “You get the job.”

Wonshik splutters; nerves, embarrassment and elation bursting like sparks in his gut. “Oh, my… oh, my—I mean, I—,” 

All of a sudden, Hakyeon lifts a finger elegantly (‘ _ bad Wonshik, stop staring,’  _ Wonshik chastises himself _ )  _ and promptly adds _.  _ “Before you thank me or of the sort, I want to make  _ one _ thing clear.”

Biting his lip, Wonshik straightens readily. “Yes?”

“You cannot touch any of the models on set.” Hakyeon says, his honey-like voice wavering between benign and stern. Truthfully, it unsettles Wonshik because the thought of seeing this man angry would be . . . intimidating. “That term will be in the fine print of your contract with the highest priority up the list. Violate it by the brush of a finger and your contract will be subject to immediate termination.”

Wonshik contemplates this, swallowing nervously. 

Granted, he’s never worked in the fashion industry before but he takes a risk by guessing, “...would it be wrong of me to presume something bad may have happened in the past—”

“—that brought such a term?” Hakyeon offers, his steely eyes softening. “Yes.”

“Ah.” 

A vague curiosity burns inside Wonshik, wondering which model or staff member got involved in a past mess but he pushes the thought away. It can’t have been a comfortable ordeal nor did it seem to be in his place to question it. Beaming earnestly, he gets up to bow.  “Understood, Hakyeon.”

The steeliness earlier melts away and a gorgeous smile curls onto Hakyeon’s lip as he too got up and extends a hand to Wonshik. “Thank you for your time, Kim Wonshik. Welcome to the Haus of VIXX.”

When Wonshik takes his hand, he barely holds in his surprise at the feel of calluses on the older’s palm that betells of hard manual labor. When Hakyeon lets go of his hand and heads towards the exit of the meeting room, Wonshik remembers of the dress pieces he saw on the models during their trial photoshoot . . . especially the black suit Jaehwan wore with the glittering floral embroidery; he wonders if Hakyeon stitched it by himself. 

Hakyeon opens the door, smiling over his shoulder. ‘“I look forward to working on more projects with you, Wonshik. See you on Monday.”

Wonshik grins, heart fluttering. “Thanks again, Hakyeon.”

☆

* * *

 

☆

There are marigold lights dancing above Sanghyuk’s head. 

“I'm buying drinks!” Wonshik announces.

Sanghyuk whoops with his fists pumped in the air while Taekwoon chuckles beside him, the dim lights of the bar evidently unwinding all of the nerves in they had (well, mostly just Wonshik’s) from the anticipation bubbling from the trial photoshoot. 

Sleeves rolled up, his hair now tousled free from gel, Sanghyuk sees a glimpse of the Wonshik he once knew back in university, exuberance like a dream over a dream. The photographer melts into the soft leather of the booth that they’ve settled in for the night. The time is still relatively early, evident from the slow yet gradual increase of people into the pretty bar that Taekwoon recommended, but they both could tell Wonshik is simply high over the moon. 

“Congratulations on landing the job.” Taekwoon laces his fingers together, smiling radiantly. 

“Ah, shucks, I just got lucky.” Sanghyuk sees the color rise to Wonshik’s cheeks. “I can’t thank you guys enough for referring me to Hongbin.” 

“Oh, hyung, always so modest. Your photos did that for you! We were lucky  _ we  _ found  _ you. _ I remember back when we shared a room, you used to stick so many photos on the walls and Butt would paw at them for fun.”

“...you named your dog ‘Butt’?” Taekwoon’s smile twitches with disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Actually, I named him Badass initially.” Wonshik shoots the stink eye, which Sanghyuk proceeds to respond with a mischievous grin. “Then  _ someone  _ decided to change his name until it just sort of...stuck. Now, he won’t answer to anything else.”

“Butt’s his cream French bulldog.” Sanghyuk slings an arm effortlessly around the back of Taekwoon’s chair. “Anyway, hyung, how big is Butt now? Do you have any pictures of your big Butt?”   
  
“You punk.” Wonshik fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Here, I’ve got pictures.”

They spend a few moments looking through Wonshik’s camera reel with Taekwoon cooing yet surprised while Sanghyuk merely amused at the  _ two thousand  _ pictures in the ‘Butt’ photo album. Then, they gradually begin to talk about everything and nothing as the bar gets busier and busier with the spill of people coming in to relish nighttime celebrations with cocktail drinks and dancing. 

Fingertips buzzing as the elation takes over from swapping stories since they parted ways as roommates, Sanghyuk drops his arm from around the back of Taekwoon’s chair to carefully slip under the table. Sensing this, Taekwoon’s own hand inconspicuously slips down as well and their fingers met, intertwined so tenderly as if they’d been parted too long. 

Wonshik watches them, stifling a chuckle at how besotted they are for each other. “How long have you  _ two _ been dating?”

“We’ve been dating for two years now. We met not too long after you graduated and I moved to a place off-campus, somewhere that happened to be near Taekwoon’s old apartment at the time.” Sanghyuk wills his heart to not flutter giddily, recalling the whirlwind of happy memories. “Have I ever told you how this hyung walked into my class one morning, which was the wrong class for him, and he panicked, tripping in front of everyone?”

Taekwoon groans, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Oh, god, Hyuk-ah… Please don’t humiliate me with that story.”

“How he  _ also _ , in the very same day, tried to feed some birds in the park and got chased by a dog?”

“What?” Wonshik stifles a chuckle. “How?”

“Stop.” Taekwoon whines, the tips of his ears burning pink now.

“... _ and  _ how he too managed to ‘conveniently’ forget his wallet when he wanted to buy his coffee at that cafe I used to work at?”

“Oh, this sounds juicy.” Wonshik crosses his arms, leaning forward on his elbows with great interest. 

“That all happened on the first day I met him too.” Sanghyuk playfully thumbs the silver earring dangling from his boyfriend’s ear, mirth threatening to spill through his teeth. “Now in hindsight, I could never really tell if I was being tested or blessed… but I did  _ pay  _ for his coffee, the one which he couldn’t afford and everything after that is history.”

“...please don’t make me punch you, darling.” Taekwoon pouts sulkily.

Sanghyuk laughs but decides to cease his teasing; he never really could resist that adorable face. “Fine, I’ll be hush tonight. No promises on the next time I see Wonshik-hyung though.” 

“Okay, you can tell him the story when I’m  _ not  _ around.” Taekwoon huffs mock-indignantly.

Sanghyuk winks. “Incidentally, we still have a  _ lot  _ of stuff to catch up on with each other.”

“Yeah, we haven’t really seen much in that time.” Wonshik smiles absentmindedly, twirling the glass in his hand to make the amber liquor dance. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to keep in touch as often, Hyuk-ah. Life had gotten pretty busy after I left school.”

Tracing circles with his thumb on the back of Taekwoon’s hand, Sanghyuk turns to ask. “What happened to you after graduation, hyung?”

“Juggled a few jobs here and there.” Wonshik shrugs. “Remember Taemin and Jongin? Yeah, we lived together for a while and did tons of part-time jobs while working on my portfolio. It was a bit of a slow crawl to get my photography career going the past three years but eventually, I managed to save enough money to get my own place thanks to Jinki’s help.”

“Ah, that’s great to hear.” Wrapping an arm around Taekwoon’s squirming waist, Sanghyuk pulls him close and plants a kiss on his cheek almost in apology. “Should I buy the next round?”

Taekwoon pats his boyfriend’s chest. “That’s sweet of you, Hyuk-ah, but the next one is on me.”

“Aw, hyung, no!” Wonshik starts to get up from his seat. “Please let me—,”

“You can buy us more drinks with your first paycheck.” Taekwoon waves a hand goodnaturedly. “Besides, Sanghyuk likes to tease that I have expensive tastes.”

“He does.” Sanghyuk shrugs. “You should see his brandy collection back at our place.”

Wonshik’s brows shot up. “Brandy. That sounds fancy.”

Taekwoon snorts, rolling up the sleeves of his own buttoned shirt, long limbs deliciously on display. “You should be a rapper.”

“Perhaps in another lifetime.” Wonshik grins before taking the last sip of soju from his glass.

Flashing one last radiant smile, Taekwoon turns around to head towards the bar and Sanghyuk’s eyes could help but trail after the exquisite older man’s entrancingly lithe built that is quickly ensnaring the attention of the other patrons. He looks away when Taekwoon calls the bartender for some drinks and finds Wonshik’s smirk above his empty glass with a brow raised like,  _ ‘bro you’re so gone’. _

Sanghyuk chuckles, heat rising slowly to his cheeks for his blatant awe. 

Wonshik pulls over the youngest’s empty bottle along with his, rearranging them to the side, glass clinking against glass. “How's unemployed life, Hyuk-ah?” 

“It’s been nice.” Sanghyuk admits earnestly, relaxing back into his chair. "Well, not really. I've been a little stressed, I guess?"

Wonshik laces his fingers together, contemplative. "Why so?"

"Ever since I graduated from school…" Sanghyuk shrugs, raising a finger to pick mindlessly at the label on the soju bottle. "...I've been bumming out at the apartment. Don't get me wrong, I love Taekwoon-hyung and I know I wanted to take a small break after school..."

"Let me guess, you've grown restless?"

"How did you figure that one out?"

Wonshik chuckles. "You forget that I've known you well enough to know you're a hard-working kid. You don't like sitting still, even if you need to."

"God, you sound like my mother."

They both cackle at that. Sanghyuk sighs, glancing to Taekwoon who is chatting rather animatedly with the bartender. "I don't want Taekwoon-hyung to feel like I'm freeloading off of him." 

"But you two are living together." Wonshik tilts his head. "Don't you both pay the rent together?"

"Actually, it's only Taekwoon-hyung paying it." Sanghyuk admits guiltily, scratching his ear. "I would've paid a share of the rent out of my savings but he won't let me until I got comfortable to start looking for a job. Even then, he insists on paying a bigger sum of the rent just because he gets the bigger paycheck between us," he rolls his eyes in mild exasperation. "...so that's our current living arrangement."

Wonshik cups his cheeks with a scandalously loud gasp. "Oh, my god! He's your sugar daddy!"

"Hyung!" Sanghyuk hisses, hands flailing before him as if he's not sure whether to clasp Wonshik's mouth shut or slap him on the upside of the head. Probably both. 

"He is, isn't he?" Wonshik lowers his voice instantly, wagging his eyebrows salaciously. 

Sanghyuk cringes, clenching his hand to not smack Wonshik hard on the face. "No, he's not like that at all."

"Huh?"

"Like  _ at all _ ."

"What?" Wonshik mumbles, lost. "What do you mean like not at—,"

"There are people…" Sanghyuk explains, willing himself to calm down from the earlier small outburst, settling his hands slowly back onto the table. "...who don't need to have sex to be in loving relationships."

"Wait. If that's the case, who is the one—?"

Sanghyuk firmly shakes his head. "Not here. Not when Taekwoon-hyung can come back at anytime."

"Ah, sorry. Wow.  _ Wow. _ " Wonshik runs a hand down his neck, eyes flickering towards Taekwoon’s direction. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Hyuk-ah. I mean, its Taekwoon-hyung's and your business … and I'm sorry for instigating the sugar daddy bit."

"Oh, no worries. We've talked about it plenty of times.” Sanghyuk waves a hand dismissively, suddenly remembering the first few talks they had regarding the matter. “At first, I did tell him it felt rather much like being sugar baby to him. But lately, I don't want to gradually be a bother to him even if he says it isn't."

"Aw, look at you, soppy sod." Wonshik coos, scrunching his nose. "You really do love him."

"The most I can do for him nowadays is just cooking and cleaning."

Wonshik begins to pout. "You never cleaned when you used to live with me."

Laughter spills from the youngest. "I did, hyung! Did you forget that I helped clean up after you got so busy during your final year that you forgot to feed Butt?"

"Okay, fine, my memory sucks." Wonshik crosses his arms, playfully sulky. "You never cooked for me either."

"Well, you're missing out." Taekwoon cuts in, smug as he balances a tray of drinks with his hand. "His cooking is getting better...under my guidance, of course."

"Why do I see more than three glasses?" Sanghyuk counts that there are actually  _ six  _ glasses of different alcoholic drinks placed atop the tray. "Hyung, what did you do? Did you bribe the bartender for free drinks?”

“I did nothing of the sort.” Taekwoon pokes his tongue out at his boyfriend. "She offered free drinks so I graciously did  _ not  _ turn them down."

"Good man." Wonshik applauds.

Sanghyuk glances over Taekwoon's shoulder, raising a brow when he meets the bartender's eye who had followed to their table. "She's cute."

"She is." Taekwoon nods, taking a sip out of the cocktail placed on the tray. "...and she knows how to make a mean drink."

Sanghyuk tilts his head. "Would you mind if I tried to become a bartender on the side?"

"But you don't know how to mix drinks." 

"I could learn. If I could learn how to cook, I think I could learn how to mix drinks."

"Yeah but you'd probably be working night shifts and I wouldn’t get to see you after I finish work."

"Ah, true."

Wonshik takes a sip of his beer, eyes fleeting amusedly between the couple until an idea hit him. “Hey, why don't you work part-time with me, Hyuk-ah?”

The two of them turned to him. Sanghyuk especially blinks a few times, the words sinking into his head, as if the gears in his brain were turning. “I could?”

“Of course! You can just help me carry equipment around the photoshoots and sets.” 

“I thought you would have Hakyeon’s staff to help you out?” Taekwoon asks, slipping one of his hands easily into Sanghyuk’s, underneath the table again, fingers entwined together flawlessly as if they’ve done this too many times to count. “Wouldn’t there be a lighting executive of the kind that’ll run the set?”

“Yeah but if Sanghyuk ever wants to do some light work before diving back into the corporate field or a desk job, the offer is on the table.” Wonshik smiles, raising his glass cordially. 

Sanghyuk contemplates this, thumb absently running on the back of Taekwoon’s bony knuckles, knowing that he wants nothing more than to be less of a burden to his sweetest boyfriend. He catches Taekwoon’s eye, those beautiful feline eyes gleaming under the golden glow of the bar lights and his heart swells, butterflies bursting from the pit of his belly.

“What's the payment though, hyung?” Sanghyuk turns back to Wonshik.

He feels Taekwoon’s twitch of surprise in his hand. “Are you seriously considering?”

“Yeah, why not? It'll help you out,” he squeezes Taekwoon’s hand in reassurance. “I feel bad because I’m still freeloading, even though you promise me that I’m not.”

“You’re not.” Taekwoon reaffirms.

“Well, I love you...” The words roll off easily from Sanghyuk’s tongue as his smile softens with his eyes when he sees the miniscule blush creeping onto Taekwoon’s cheeks. “...so consider this as my trying to help out. Please?”

From the corner of his eye, Wonshik looks positively ready to squeal yet run for the hills simultaneously. Taekwoon rolls his eyes but squeezes the hand in return. “Fine.”

“There you go, Wonshik-hyung, you’ve got yourself a lighting assistant.”

“Sweet!” Wonshik lifts his hand in a high-five and Sanghyuk laughs, reciprocating with his free hand. “We can talk about monetary details tomorrow. For tonight, let’s just drink up and celebrate the end of my unemployment!”

Taekwoon lets out a puff of laughter. “Okay.”

“I still think it was sweet of him to still learning how to cook and clean for you,” Wonshik remarks. “He never did that when we were roomies before.”

“You both have one thing in common: low standards in housemates.”

Taekwoon leans over and kisses him on the cheek. “Hush, I love you too.”

Sanghyuk wishes he had some form of embarrassment for putting Wonshik in a position to have to watch them be absolutely gross and head-over-heels for each other but he couldn’t even try to care, not when Taekwoon has those stars in his eyes only meant for Sanghyuk. 

Wonshik chuckles at their mushy display. “By the way, guess who was one of the models I got to shoot with today?”

“Santa in a bikini?” Sanghyuk offers, pokerfaced. “Maybe only a thong?”

Taekwoon rolls his eyes, half-heartedly slapping his boyfriend’s arm for the joke while Wonshik stifles a laugh before simply answering, “No, it was Lee Jaehwan.”

Sanghyuk’s eyes widen instantly. “...Lee Jaehwan?”

“You know Jaehwannie?” Taekwoon pipes up. 

It’s Wonshik’s turn to look at the oldest with surprise. “ _ You  _ know Jaehwan?”

“Oh, boy. What a small world.” Taekwoon’s elegant finger traces the rim of his glass. “I helped recruit Jaehwan to work for the  _ Haus of VIXX  _ a while ago. It was a favor from Hongbin when they were looking for someone to be the face of their last spring collection.” 

“Wow.” Wonshik leans back, staring at the golden lightbulb hanging above their heads. “A small world indeed.”

“A small world where you reunite with the best friend from high school that you had a massive crush on but was too chicken to even confess to,” Sanghyuk takes a sip of his drink, smirking. “Now, some people would say God has a sense of humor... I’d say He’s a comedian.”

“Oh.” Taekwoon looks like the cat that got the cream. “ _ Oh.” _

“I didn't chicken out,” Wonshik scoffs at the exaggeration. “Things just...turned out different than what I had hoped. Besides, it wouldn't have worked out between Jaehwan and me.”

“Why not?”

Sanghyuk chuckles and squeezes his boyfriend’s hand so fondly, who is ever the hopeless romantic. Shrugging, Wonshik sighs and takes a long sip from his glass before he adds, quite humbly. “When we were kids, I always knew Jaehwan was meant for great things and look at him now, a successful model. I don’t get the chance to work with a lot of fashion models but he was...” His words cease but the prominent flush of his ears is telling enough, making Sanghyuk snigger and Taekwoon coo. 

“Yes, I remember you described him as pretty.” The youngest teases. 

Wonshik clears his throat, running a hand down his nape with the large phoenix tattoo at his wrist gleaming under the mellow lights. “Well, he's more like...gorgeous now. The last time I saw him was at our graduation ceremony when we were eighteen.”

“So talk to him now,” Sanghyuk smirks. “Not everyday you get to see an old flame.”

“I can’t do that. Hakyeon emphasized on not being close to the models. Besides, the photoshoot for the launch is only in a couple of days and after that, it’ll be quite a stretch for us to put together a mockup catalogue in less than two weeks. Not an ideal time to be catching up either.”

“Good timing that you have an assistant this early, hyung.” Sanghyuk grins.

“Plus, Hakyeon only meant _ physically  _ close,” Taekwoon corrects breezily. “Yes, I know that because I went through the fine print with Hongbin before I helped him with the recruiting. Besides, you can always hang out after work and you'll just be reconnecting anyway. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

Loving how supportive his boyfriend is being towards his old friend, Sanghyuk murmurs conspiratorially. “You did mention you guys had history.”

Wonshik chuckles, cheeks tinting from mirth and the alcoholic buzz. “You exaggerate, kid. We were good friends.” 

“Then, be good friends again!” 

“Surely, you guys didn’t part on bad terms…” Taekwoon’s brows furrow. “...did you?”

“No, we didn’t. We actually never parted, we just...grew apart,” Wonshik sighs at his lame answer. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with talking to him again. I did miss him a lot after we graduated.”

“Good boy,” Sanghyuk’s eyes glint mischievously. “Go woo your old crush.”

“No, I won’t!”

“Yeah, right!”   


Taekwoon chuckles softly between the two bickering friends as the night grows darker and the lights above them float like city fireflies. 

 

☆

* * *

☆

 

Hakyeon loves that lavender blonde. 

“Oh, my  _ God! _ ” He squeals at the sight of the younger’s new hair color, bouncing off the sofa in the waiting room that the model just walked into. “Oh, my God, oh my God, Jaehwan- _ ah!  _ It looks so beautiful!”

“Aw, thank you, hyung.” Jaehwan ducks his head bashfully. “I owe it to our God Nayeon for her magical stylist hands.”

“Let me look!”

Hakyeon speeds up towards him, hands outstretched to gently caress his frosted locks where a few days ago, the color had been a deep yellow and his roots peeking like fresh soil. Now, the blonde is paler with tints of lavender streaking like moonlight mixing with a sunset. Chuckling when his fingers get tangled with the slight frizziness, Hakyeon moves to place his hands onto both sides of the younger’s cheeks, shy of the urge to simply  _ squish _ . 

“Can you honestly get any cuter, you lovable mochi? I can’t wait to do your make-up today! It’s so refreshing to see new colors on you.”

“Someone’s like a puppy on Christmas.” Jaehwan grins, looking more rounded under his hands. “You look like you’ve been working too hard on this upcoming launch, hyung.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Do you wanna get desserts after work? We could perhaps try that cake shop around the corner.”

He knows that Jaehwan’s personal trainer would probably kill him for munching more sweets outside his diet but the very mention of sugary confection brings a twinkle to the younger’s eyes like the first spark to a bonfire; it's just so  _ adorable _ that Hakyeon uninhibitedly pounces onto the model into a large bear hug. Chuckling, Jaehwan pats the older on the back and Hakyeon vaguely wonders how comical they must seem, two grown men hugging in the middle of a dressing room.

“I’d love that, Jaehwan-ah.” He ardently fondles with the model’s lovely earlobe. “You’ve lost too much weight already.”

“It’s my job to be thin, hyung.”

“Thin, yes, but not all bony like the skeleton that you are now.” Hakyeon pouts. “I’ll treat you to your favorite cakes after work.”

“Ah, how lovely to walk in on this sweetness,” Hongbin interrupts, appearing through the open doorway. He looks rather impeccable, silver hair styled up while dressed in a tailor striped shirt and black slacks, ever the vision of beauty that would literally  _ kill . . .  _ that smug bastard _.  _ “Morning, camaraderie. We need to have a little chat...preferably without koala-like tendencies.”

Hakyeon sneers but doesn’t budge his posture. 

Scoffing mixed with a soft chuckle, Jaehwan moves to settle his arm comfortably around the senior design executive’s narrow waist. “Oh, Hongbin, your jealousy is showing.”

“Do bite me, Jaehwan dearest.”

“Ya!” Hakyeon scolds, hip bumping against the younger’s as he steps closer, not unlike he’s ready to beat Hongbin into a pulp. “You don’t use that tone to Jaehwannie.”

Hongbin raises his hands in surrender, the corner of his lips twitches lazily. “I humbly apologize.”

Jaehwan stifles the sigh and the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose at these two. “It’s fine.”

“We do need to have a chat though,” Hongbin cuts in before Hakyeon even gets to rebuke. Dropping from his surrender, Hongbin pockets his hands and looks between them, slithering back into his usual haughty demeanor. “If we manage to pull through with today’s photoshoot with some sort of miracle, we would quite  _ luckily  _ still have all of our jobs. However, after we pitch the mockup catalogue, we have to set up plans for our next project.”

“Yes, the experimental one we’re doing after this autumn collection. I was about to tell Jaehwan that until you decided to grace your presence in this room.”

“My, we’re all just  _ snapping  _ today.” Hongbin bares all of his teeth almost threateningly. “Good luck to us all with today’s photoshoot.”  

With a curt nod, he turns on his heel and starts walking out. He takes five large strides, walking out through the door, and Jaehwan reels his head towards Hakyeon incredulously. “What the heck is his deal?”

Hakyeon exhales loudly through his nose. “Jaehwan—,”

“I know he’s an ass but that was some stick _high_ up his ass.”

“We...had a disagreement earlier.” 

“Already?” The younger’s brows shot up, lost in blonde locks. “Hyung, it's barely nine in the morning!”

“We’re both more than a little stressed, I’ll admit that.” Hakyeon rolls his shoulders back, groaning slightly as if there’s a cinch that he can’t quite shake off. Suddenly, Jaehwan maneuvers to stand behind Hakyeon and clamp his hands down onto the older’s shoulders, beginning to start a quick massage and prompts, “...and?” 

“Ah, right. He’s snappy with me today because he has no idea what the upcoming project will be about.”

“He doesn’t?”

Hakyeon nods slowly. “Hongbin is salty that he’s been assigned with me again for the next project but only  _ I _ know about the designs and the preliminary production processes.”

“Already? That’s fast.”

Sighing in relief, Hakyeon tilts his head forward slightly and Jaehwan follows, his thumb sinking into the cleft between nape and head. “The board wants to target a niche market so I’ve been making discreet arrangements with manufacturing and so. I can’t disclose the designs with him just yet. When I don’t do that, he can’t do his job.”

They share a pause for a moment. Hakyeon wishes it didn’t always feel like taking a step forward only to take two steps back with Hongbin but they’ll just have to bear with it until the collection launches. 

Jaehwan hums, “Maybe show the designs to him once the board gives the OK so he can be his merry jolly self and do what he does best?”   


“Personally, I think he’s more of a gremlin than jolly at his job but sure.” Hakyeon stretches, groaning appreciatively. “First things first, I’d perhaps give you a cautionary heads-up, Jaehwan. They’re slightly…”

Hearing the hesitation in the older’s voice makes Jaehwan bounce slightly, the telling twinkle in his eyes that Hakyeon could tell only means  _ oh this sounds juicy _ . “Slightly…?”

“Well—,” 

“Unconventional?”

“Not really.” 

“Controversial then?”

“I would say…  _ kinky _ .”

Abruptly thrown off, Jaehwan blinks incredulously. “Oh.  _ Oh.” _

Hakyeon snickers, wrapping an arm around the younger and gently nudging him towards the door where Hongbin had gone through. “I’ll leave that to your imagination then. Come, let’s have that ‘quick’ chat.”

“Well, that’s definitely a  _ new  _ endeavor even by the company standards.” Hakyeon can sense the younger’s reeling from the possibilities, wondering what could possibly be kinky yet fashionable at the same time? “I mean, if it makes money, I get why the board would want to have a shot at it but whoa. I never knew you had a kinky side, hyung.”

“My dearest Jaehwan, you never knew me during my uni days.”   


“Should I be frightened?”

Hakyeon throws his head back with a hearty laugh as they emerge into the set for today. The walls are a splendid wash of oranges fading into pinks, like a dewy sunrise, and there’s a black pit made of stiff yet smooth foam, slowly being filled with water, propped in the middle of the vast room. There’s preparations going on, Hakyeon judges from how they’re setting colorful lights around the perimeter, and he sighs at the thought of the long day they have ahead of them. 

Hongbin is sitting at a collapsible plastic table in the middle of the room, next to the monitors, while sipping a cup of Starbucks coffee undoubtedly bought by one of the staff members. When he looks up at the two of them approaching, Hakyeon wishes that piercing gaze did not turn his insides into jelly. 

“Depends on what would frighten you then,” he gently starts to roll the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, ignoring the burn of those doe eyes on him. “What were your uni days like, Jaehwan-ah?”

“Not...entirely pleasant.” Jaehwan grimaces. 

“Aww, bub. Why?” 

He bites his lip at the sight of Jaehwan subtly fidgeting at the decidedly awkward topic. “I’m not really up to talk about it, hyung. Uni days are best left to not to be talked about.”

“Oh, okay, darling.” Hakyeon pats his shoulder soothingly. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I’ve gotten over those horrible uni days.” Jaehwan grins as they approached Hongbin on the table. “I think I turned out rather okay from them. How about yours?”

“Well, I remember having lots of  _ fun _ ,” Hakyeon smiles demurely. “Yes... my uni days were a whole lot of fun, I’ll just leave it at that.” 

Hongbin leans back in his chair. “Your uni days?”

A part of Hakyeon vaguely wonders how far those pretty ears of Hongbin’s could pick up sounds. “It’s none of your concerns, Hongbin.” He answers without missing a beat. 

Probably detecting the hostility in the air, Jaehwan clears his throat to perhaps make a run for it but Hongbin smiles saccharinely, too many teeth showing. “None of my concerns, yes, but there is no harm in voicing my curiosity, hmm?”

“That’s the best part, you would  _ never  _ know.” Hakyeon’s lips curl to something between a smirk and a sneer. “I’ll just leave that to your imagination the sort of fun I got up to in uni.”

Hongbin levels his gaze to Hakyeon and it’s disarming like pinning the older onto his feet, akin to feeling like concrete wall being stripped of its paint. It looks like Hongbin was going to snipe back but the moment is broken when they hear the click of a door being opened, the shuffling of several pairs of feet and a warm baritone voice saying, “good morning!”

“Good morning, Wonshik!”

They all look up to see the (adorable and gorgeous) man in question walks in, carrying two bags with a smile on his face, one in each hand—his personal equipment, no doubt—and there’s another silhouette of a taller man behind him, carrying two bags too whom looks like—

“ _ Hyukkie! _ ” 

Sanghyuk smiles, the curl of his lips boyish, yet Hakyeon still gasp at just how much the young lad has  _ grown.  _ He shifts the two bags into one hand and outstretching the other arm into a handshake but no, Hakyeon isn't having any of that. Instead, he reaches over to give the younger, uncaring that his hugging might be deemed unprofessional right now but . . . well, he's one of the bosses anyway; he gets to hug whoever he wants. 

"You're here! So good to see you." He pulls away, already loving the smell of vanilla of Sanghyuk's perfume. “Kid, you’ve grown!”

“Hyung, you always say that whenever you see me.”

“It’s the truth anyway.”

“Hakyeon.” Hongbin’s tone is clipped. “We have a deadline please.”

“...that, we do have.” Hakyeon sighs, pinching the youngest on the cheek. “We’ll have to catch up another time. Anyway, why are you here with Wonshik?”

“He’s my lighting assistant.” Wonshik gestures at all of the bags they’d carried into the warehouse today. “I hope that’s okay? I forgot to inform you beforehand, Hakyeon.”   


“It’s fine,” the senior design executive waves a hand nonchalantly. “Like Hongbin said, we have a deadline soon. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

Hongbin hums in stoic affirmation. 

“After today’s photoshoot, Wonshik and Hongbin, you both will work closely on getting the mock-up catalogue finished, in the meantime I’ll liaise with the board to sync our timing for production, the pitch meeting  _ and  _ the foreseeable upcoming collections, particularly the one we have planned to launch in the next month or so. Mind you, we—,”

“There’s  _ another  _ collection planned?!”

Hakyeon blinks at the photographer, jaw hanging open; did Wonshik just  _ squeak?  _ All eyes around the table turn towards him and Jaehwan lifts a clenched fist to his mouth, coughing softly—or had it been a snigger? Regardless, Hakyeon forces the urge to squeal at the way Wonshik’s eyes flit towards the model and turns possibly redder like a tomato to the tips of his ears. There’s a soft curl to Jaehwan’s mouth, the first waverings of a smile, the kind Hakyeon thinks he’s never quite seen before—which is saying something because he’s worked with Jaehwan for a  _ long _ time. 

He hates to admit it but he’s curious too.

What sort of history did those two have?

Sanghyuk looks positively amused, on the verge of cackling right there and then, while Hongbin cocks a lovely brow— _ bad Hakyeon, bad! _ —and looks torn between smirking and appearing indifferent.  

“My apologies for not mentioning it sooner, Wonshik.” He smiles kindly at the photographer, patting him on the shoulder. “For now, I’m not allowed to disclose design information from the board but we’ll discuss more about it in a few weeks. Don’t worry, it’ll be an interesting one.”

“O-okay.” 

“Oh! Before I forget, introductions!” Hakyeon gestures towards the model. “Sanghyuk, this is Jaehwan and vice versa.”

“Nice to meet you.” Sanghyuk bows. 

Jaehwan simply nods with a pleasant smile and that’s all the time they have to spare because Hongbin’s phone rings, a loud buzzing on the table and the financial director gets up. “That’ll be the board. Good luck with the photoshoot, gentlemen.”

Hakyeon claps his hands together once. “Let’s get to work.”

 

☆

* * *

☆

 

Jaehwan blinks the pink lights out of his eyes. 

He shakily gets up onto his feet, careful to gingerly rub at the inner corners of his eyes as to not smudge the iridescent glitter and eyeshadow he’s been wearing for the past hour. His limbs are slightly sore and he can feel the bloom of a wretched bruise on the side of his ribs from his belt. The water inside the pit he’s been sitting in for the past hour has gone cold, making him shiver and his clothes are sticking onto his skin. 

As he slowly gets to his feet and steps out of the water pit, Hakyeon quickly goes to him and softly asks, “Are you okay, Jaehwan-ah?”

“Y-yeah,” his teeth clatters when he speaks. “I’m okay.”

Hakyeon smiles. “Go get yourself warmed up. Thanks for your hard work today.”   


“T-t-t-thanks, hyung.”

There is a sensation in his feet, like he’s stepped on a thousand tiny needles, and his knees are wobbly as he struggles to get towards the changing room for a change of warm clothes. With a quick glance back to the set, he sees Sanghyuk rushing back and forth across the set, checking and tweaking the angle of the lights. 

There’s Wonshik, standing with his camera with a crease between his brows, borne of concentration. Jaehwan wishes his eyes didn’t linger to how the photographer looked effortlessly impeccable in just a black shirt and jeans, the bulk of his camera on his toned arms, the ink of his tattoos prominent as he readjusts the camera’s settings. He looks—

_ No,  _ Jaehwan shakes his head and tears his eyes away;  _ changing room, now, warm clothes.  _

However, when he takes a few steps, he feels a phantom of burning intensity onto the side of his face. He halts and turns, catching the sight of those droopy brown eyes staring back at him, and his feet give out underneath him like twigs snapping off a tree. 

"Oh, sh—,"

"Heyheyhey—," a pair of warm hands catch him by the shoulders. 

Jaehwan's heart hammers in his chest like a storm and he looks to face Sanghyuk. He blinks in surprise, mouth dropping out without the words spilling, but the younger abruptly lets go off him and Jaehwan barely had time to catch himself again. 

"Ah, I’m sorry.”

“I…” Jaehwan’s head is swimming. “I’m f-fine.”

“Sorry, hyung. I forgot about the first rule."

The only thing that got through his frozen-addled mind is ' _ a what now?'  _ before he sees Hongbin walk over, face stern like the brewing of a storm, with Wonshik tailing after him with a mildly panicked look.

“Any problems?”

Jaehwan blinks, discombobulated. “N-no—,” 

"I think—,” Hakyeon reappears, almost heroically swooping a mercifully warm towel on his shivering frame. “—we can allow that slip-up just  _ once _ . Wonshik, the first rule of the agreement would extend to Sanghyuk too even if it wasn’t an ill intention. Come, Jaehwan.”

There is a clear undertone of finality in Hakyeon’s tone that made the tiny hairs on Jaehwan’s neck rise; the stormy look in Hongbin’s eyes disappear and Wonshik looks torn between crestfallen and wounded. As the designer escorts him away, Jaehwan couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder one more time. Those droopy brown eyes did not meet his again, instead they turn towards Sanghyuk who rounds his shoulder, apologetic and timid. 

“I’m sorry, hyung—,”

“No, no, you’re still great help, kid.” Wonshik’s smile is lopsided, tapping the youngest on the shoulder. “Come help me clear—,”

His voice diminishes as Jaehwan gets out of earshot, entering into the changing room where the stylists are busy clearing out the remaining models in the room onto the set. Still muddled from the cold, it's almost like Jaehwan’s mind went onto autopilot as Hakyeon gently nudges him into an empty chair and leaves promptly without another word. 

His abrupt leave didn’t deter Jaehwan; they have a deadline anyway. 

Mercifully, he didn’t have to wait long before two stylists come up to him and one of them asks “Jaehwan, you’re finished with the shoot, right?” 

He nods. “...yes.” 

They slowly take all of his makeup, layer by layer, and this is usually the most gratifying part of his day as he sits soundly in the chair; all of the exertion stripped from his skin like the peeling of dried petals. Like the ticking of a clock being subdued in the backdrop of his mind, his focus blinks in and out throughout the entire period until they declare he’s done. He changes out of the sticky wet clothes in one of the changing cubicles, smoothes down his clothes from this morning—a plain white shirt and black skinnies—and grabs a spare towel to dry his damp hair.

Fishing his phone out of his bag, he turns it on and checks:  _ 10.34 PM.  _

_ Huh,  _ he muses to himself.  _ That ended quicker than I expected.  _

Slipping his feet into warm sneakers, Jaehwan exits the cubicle, wondering if they’d still be working. He returns back into the set; Hongbin is talking animatedly on the phone and Hakyeon looks exhausted, scrolling past reel after reel on the monitor, in a way that Jaehwan feels it would’ve been inadequate to even bid goodbye. Sanghyuk appears from the backdrop, carrying three crates filled with bulbs easily that almost scares Jaehwan. 

However, where is Wonshik?

_ Wait.  _ Jaehwan shakes his head vigorously, quelling the impulse to smack himself on the head.  _ No-no-no-no-no, Lee Jaehwan, you have an apartment to unpack right now.  _

There’s a feeling blooming from the pit of his gut, a clawing kind onto his heartstrings and makes him want to linger, which he dares not put a name to; he shoves it down, turning around to the parking lot exit. He pushes onto the metal door, its poorly oiled hinges screeching loudly, and the cool night breeze greets his face with a gentle caress. The parking lot is still packed with cars, dimly lit by a handful of lampposts, and he descends the short rickety staircase to where his car is parked—

“Jaehwan?”

Descent halted midway, Jaehwan gapes at the figure standing at the bottom of the stairs. The lighting is bad but it isn’t difficult to figure out who it is; those broad shoulders, the lithe lines of those toned arms that kept drawing his eyes during the photoshoot and that  _ adorable _ twinkle in those eyes he used to describe as pure. There’s a wild fluttering inside him, weakening his knees yet he pushes it aside, smiling. “Hi, Wonshik.”

Jaehwan feels a tiny twinge of fear, lamenting  _ oh god this is gonna be awkward  _ but Wonshik ascends the stairway, closer to the light into the dim light of the stairs, a nervous hand running down his nape. 

“Hi. Hi, hi, hello, I mean—,” Wonshik clears his throat and Jaehwan curses at how  _ endearing  _ it is. “Hey.”

“Hi.” This time, his smile curls more easily. 

“Erm…” Chuckling, Wonshik’s hand hovers above his cheeks. “I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s good to finally talk to you. Outside of work. I mean, literally outside of work."

Jaehwan stifles a chuckle, _ oh no, he's as cute as I remember. _

"I know we...never got the chance, especially with the upcoming deadline.”

Jaehwan shrugs goodnaturedly. “Yeah, things have been pretty busy.”

“You were great today, by the way. I mean, I’m sure you’ve been told that lots of time but you were…” Wonshik’s hand now moves into his hair, which Jaehwan wonders if it’s really as soft as it looks— _ bad Jaehwan.  _

“T-thanks.” Jaehwan grimaces at his own stuttering;  _ stupid nerves.  _ “You were fantastic out there too. I’ve heard how Hakyeon offered you the job in the very same day when we did the trial photoshoot.”

"Aw, I got lucky." Even in the dim light, Jaehwan sees the blush on Wonshik's face. “I heard there’s been lots of deadlines lately.”

“That’s the fashion world for you.” 

“It’s pretty impressive. I got lucky too,” were Wonshik’s cheeks turning . . . redder? “It’s nice to see you again, Jaehwan-ah.”

There is the bang of a drum in Jaehwan’s chest and he can’t help but smile. “It’s nice to see you too, Wonshik.” 

The silence stretches between them and it feels like both of them are suspended in the middle, tense. Jaehwan’s gut is flipping in his stomach as Wonshik’s soft gaze is like a dandelion seeds to his psyche, tender in a frightening way that makes him want to run back home and

“Actually—,”

“I was—,”

They both chuckle at the simultaneous way they blurted their words. 

“Ah, sorry. You say it first.” Wonshik leans against the railing, tattooed arm coming into view and  _ oh,  _ Jaehwan thinks,  _ those are definitely new.  _

“No, you.”

“Uh… do you have anywhere to go after this?”

“Only home.” Jaehwan shrugs. “Why?”

“I was hoping…” Wonshik fiddles with his fingers. “...do you perhaps want to catch up one day? Maybe over coffee or something...after work?”

A large part of Jaehwan’s brain explodes in a blast of blaring sirens going  _ NO-NO-NO-NO-NO  _ but there’s a voice, firm and strong, compels him to answer. “...I’d love that.”

“Really?” 

This time, it’s Jaehwan’s heart that explodes at seeing the hopeful look on the younger’s face. “Yeah. Actually, I may need your help if you don’t mind.”

“You know I never do.” 

Jaehwan’s cheeks hurt from smiling at this . . . familiarity between them. “I’m moving out of my apartment and I need a moving buddy for this Saturday. Would that be okay with you?” 

“Sounds awesome, actually, because I have absolutely  _ no  _ plans this Saturday.”

“It’ll probably be mundane though.”

“Mundane just means more room for fun.”

Jaehwan wonders how he didn’t realize it, unsure of who moved first, but they’re almost on the same stair landing. Wonshik is close enough now, golden hues of the light painting onto his tanned skin, and Jaehwan wishes he could just take a picture right now. He fishes out his phone from his pocket, unlocking it with a swipe of his thumb and smiles. “Great, shall I email you my address?”

In a whirr of surprise, Wonshik takes the older’s phone from his hand, fingers brushing briefly that totally didn’t make Jaehwan’s stomach somersault. The photographer taps in his phone number onto the screen, pressing ‘Call’. As they wait, Jaehwan nearly melts at the remnants of the warm tingles on his fingertips; his mind bringing a memory of a summer evening that they spent by the water. 

They had come close to holding hands, fingers brushing, but never really. He doesn’t really get to linger on the thought before there’s a buzzing and Wonshik fishes out his own phone too, showing the screen.

“I think a text might be better.” 

_ Do not swoon,  _ Jaehwan tells himself,  _ I don’t recall him being this smooth.  _ “Okay, I’ll text you then.”

Wonshik smiles at him, returning the phone. “I look forward to Saturday then.”

As Jaehwan takes back his phone, his eyes linger onto the smile in Wonshik’s eyes, almost filled with stars, like he sees Jaehwan as a walking supernova he can’t quite look away—no,  _ no _ , Wonshik is only looking at him like that because they're old friends catching up. Yeah, that’s the way it is; Jaehwan knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up. 

“See you, Wonshik.”

“Good night, Jaehwan.” 

With a weight in his chest, Jaehwan forces himself to move past Wonshik and descending down the stairs. His fingertips still tingle warmly and he still feels the weight of Wonshik’s gaze into the back of his head, heart thundering in his chest. He ignores it, hurrying towards his car. Finally giving into the urge, he halts with a hand onto the door handle and turns around. He glimpses the back of Wonshik’s head before the rickety exit door closes behind him. There’s a moment, a quiet moment to himself in the dim parking lot, and he feels lighter than air. 

Jaehwan climbs into his car with a tiny smile, wishing Saturday would just come sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you always for reading! :3
> 
> give my lovely [LiesandJintrigue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiesandJintrigue/pseuds/LiesandJintrigue) some love and snuggles for beta-ing this chapter uwu 
> 
> here's [my twitter](https://twitter.com/beanedbyBean?s=09%22) if yall wish to follow up on my Hongbin-based shenanigans, occasional art and more Hongbin-based shenanigans XD


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